


Afterlife

by CraftRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Marriage, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 99,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CraftRose/pseuds/CraftRose
Summary: Hermione and Draco are tasked with an undercover mission on the other side of the world. They must pose as a pair of Muggle newlyweds in order to find and take down the wizarding world's newest threat — a group of Muggles known as The Collective.





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:**

She awoke with a jolt, overhead bins flinging open, flight attendants moving swiftly through the aisles, and the lights in the cabin flickering out, as the sound of the pilot's voice came in through the speakers.

 _"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We are now crossing a zone of turbulence. Cabin crew and passengers, please return to your seats and keep your seat belts fastened until further notice. Thank y —_ "

The plane shook again, violently this time.

Commotion broke out amongst the passengers in economy. The audible gasps of first-time fliers, the sounds of parents trying to calm their young.

" _Please be seated. This is your pilot speaking. I repeat, please b —_ "

Rapidly fastening her seatbelt, Hermione clutched tightly at the armrests on either side of her. The young man to her right followed suit, accidentally grazing the back of her hand with his. Only then did she remember he was there, in the seat beside her. They had barely looked to each other since boarding, let alone said a word.

With one glance in his direction, she took note of three things. First, the black dye in his hair had already begun to fade, reduced to an dull, muted shade of black as opposed to the midnight shade in his passport photo. Second, he was sweating profusely around his hairline and under the collar of his secondhand Muggle clothes. Third, his eyes were squeezed shut and he was grasping at his armrests as if his life depended on it, which after another violent shake of the plane, it probably did.

Quickly refocusing, Hermione slammed her eyes shut, the cold silver Caroline Grey's wedding ring growing tighter around her finger with each toss and each tremor of the plane. She knew going into the mission that it wasn't going to be easy but she had no idea just how difficult it was going to be, and how soon she was going to wish she had never yes.

**Chapter One:**

**_Five Months Later_ **

"H-harder," she panted, her mouth falling agape as he bent her firmly over the table and thrusted deep inside her, hitting just the right place, at just the right time. "F-fuck me, fuck me! Yes, yes! Oh, my G — !"

In a matter of seconds she came, her walls squeezing and twitching around him for what felt like the third time in just the one session.

He quickly followed her in her in release, pulling her up against him and kissing her neck as they rode it out together, the intensity and the rapid breaths between them slowly but surely dwindling down from that warm, electric, familiar high.

"Fuck …" the red-haired barista breathed, dipping her head down as she slowly gathered herself. "That was what, like the fifth time this week? One of these days, my boss is going to catch us in here, Jason."

Separating from her in the quiet that followed, Jason yanked off the condom and disposed of it in nearby bin, making sure that it was hidden under a couple of napkins as to not tip anyone off. Although he was unfamiliar with Starbucks and their policies, he was sure that Anna, the barista he'd just had sex with in the backroom of the Starbucks where she worked, would most certainly lose her job if her boss had even the slightest idea of what they'd just done, and where, and how often.

"Don't worry," he said to her, a hint of a smile on his lips as she stopped him from buttoning his shirt up. "Again?"

Gently biting down on her bottom lip, Anna glanced up at him and nodded. "I seriously can't get enough of you," she confessed, quietly standing on her toes so she could whisper the rest into his ear. " … and by you, I mean your cock."

His eyes fell shut when he heard that, and for a few seconds he allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of her body and her lips, but their moment was soon interrupted by the loud, piercing ring of his phone.

"Please don't answer that," Anna murmured, kissing her way down his body.

As much as he'd have liked to do just that, the sensible part of his brain which he usually ignored in moments like this, simply wouldn't allow it.

With a deep sigh, Jason backed away, met with a pout from the barista. "Sorry," he uttered, using one hand to fasten his buttons and tug his trousers back on, and the other to grab his phone out of the back pocket, the name Caroline glaring back at him in big, bright letters. "It's her …"

"Of course it's her," Anna mumbled, reluctantly grabbing her clothes from floor and sliding them on in the dimness of the backroom.

Jason's bottom lip twitched as if he meant to say something to that, but ultimately didn't. Instead he answered the call, taking to the far side of the room the same way he had all those other times.

"Hello?" he answered.

Without a moment of delay, his greeting was met with a long stretch of silence, wherein he was sure that his wife was pressing her lips together in the frown that she had seemingly reserved just for him.

"I'm not even going to ask," she said, utterly drained by the sound of it.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the fifth time this week,  _Dra_  — Jason."

He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat, glancing back at Anna to make sure she wasn't listening in before he said anything else. Relieved to find that she had gone off to the front of the coffee shop, he relaxed, refocusing. "Listen, now's not a good time. I'll be home in ten minutes. We can talk about this then."

"There's nothing to talk about. You already know where I stand," Caroline inserted, in  _that_  tone.

"Yes, and I was careful. I'm always careful," he said to her, clearly and calmly.

"Whatever. Remember to pick up milk on your way home. We're out."

Rolling his eyes, Jason nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Yeah, okay. See you in a bit."

With only that, his wife ended the call before he'd so much as lowered the phone.

**_One Hour Later_ **

The quiet click of footsteps filled her ears as she lay awake on the couch, a book in hand and the warm glow of her reading lamp casting its light in that small corner of the living room.

It was late.

Looking to the doorway for only a moment, she redirected her gaze to her copy of  _Gone Girl_  as the sound of his footsteps grew louder and closer.

He came to the doorway, the floorboards creaking under his last step.

For a good, long moment, his entrance was met with silence. It was only as he cleared his throat that she glanced up from her book, pretending as though she hadn't noticed him until that moment.

In that light, he looked almost like his old self.

"You're late," Hermione said, unperturbed if not for the flicker of annoyance in her eyes.

Sparing a moment to glance at the time on the wall clock, Draco exhaled, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. "Yeah, I, er … I got lost on the way home. There was traffic on the bridge that I usually take, so I tried another road and I just … I don't know."

The brunette rolled her eyes, glancing back down at her book after. "It's a miracle you got away with anything in school if that's your idea of an explanation."

"I'm serious," he said. "Go out and look for yourself if you don't believe me."

Calmly turning to the next page, Hermione muffled a yawn with the back of her hand. "I believe you."

His eyebrows bounced up. "Really?"

"No," she said plainly, sliding her bookmark in place before looking to him. "Did you remember to pick up the milk like I asked?"

Screwing his face as he realized that he'd forgotten, Draco sighed, shaking his head no. "I'll do it now."

Hermione tensed, trying not to frown as she got up. "Don't bother. The shops are closed."

"I'm sure one of them is open."

Brushing past him, she muttered the first words that came to mind. "I'm surprised you have the energy to go back out considering what you were doing all doing all night."

"First of all, it wasn't all night. Second …" He followed her into the kitchen, watching from the doorway as she unloaded the dishwasher. "I would hate to deny you the milk you need for your morning tea. We both know what happens when Caroline doesn't get her fix."

Hermione glared at him, this time deeper. "Fuck you."

"Fuck  _you_."

"Why are you always like this?"

He exhaled deeply. "Whatever it is you're trying to say, just say it. Stop dancing around the problem. For once!"

"There wouldn't be a problem if you'd just focus!"

"I am focused!"

"On fucking everything besides the mission! Just fuck off if you're not going to be useful!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Oh,  _please_  do!"

"You know what? Okay," Draco blurted, grabbing the keys from his pocket.

Hermione tensed, nearly breaking the plate in her grasp as he stormed off. "Don't bother coming back!" she shouted.

Opening the front door with a loud screech, Draco left, the sound of his footsteps vanishing into the driveway as he unlocked his car and reversed out.

Still in the kitchen, Hermione swallowed the buildup of anger in her throat, tossing the plate back into the dishwasher and slipping out through the backdoor of the house for some air.

Despite it all, they usually didn't argue like that.

In fact they'd gotten along for the majority of the past five months together. It was only in recent weeks that the energy between them had started to change. She couldn't speak for him, of course, but she knew in her own heart that she missed home more than words could have described. Not so much her old flat in London, but her friends and family. Her tiny office at the Ministry, even.

Suffice to say her patience was wearing thin, and her partner on the mission did nothing to help. In fact he'd only made it harder for her to stay focused, what with all his sleeping around and his disinterest in how it came across. They weren't  _actually_  in a relationship, but they were, at least, supposed to give the illusion of one. In the back of her mind she supposed there was nothing more believable than a bit of cheating, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Draco had made a habit of putting himself in vulnerable situations, and all with a random girl whose name he could barely remember most times.

For all he knew, the high-pitched barista was onto him, and working for The Collective.

They apparently had eyes and ears everywhere in the city.

Apparently.

Hermione had yet to prove their existence, let alone take them down as she and Draco had been tasked, but she had still made a point to at least  _try_. On the other hand, her partner had seemingly given up, instead spending his days and his nights doing whatever and whomever he pleased.

Releasing the tension in a long, pent up breath, Hermione sat on the railing which surrounded the back porch of the house, and grabbed a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it up as she stared out into the fields in the distance.

She normally didn't smoke.

In fact she'd always found it to be rather disgusting, but for some reason she'd picked up a pack at the shops the other day. They just called out to her, the way the library used to in the old days.

"Pardon me, miss. I'm sorry to bother you but …"

Thinking that Draco had returned, Hermione glanced to the left, her insides jumbling up as a man she had never met before approached her house.

"C-can I help you?" she blurted, instinctively feeling for her wand as she quickly straightened.

Tall, brown-haired and blue-eyed, the strange man halted in his tracks, realizing he'd given her a shock.

"Sorry. I just … I couldn't help but notice that you're smoking," he said, nodding to the cigarette between her fingers.

Hermione glanced down at it, briefly. "Er … yeah. Is that a problem?"

"Kind of. I live in the house next-door, and one of my dogs has breathing problems. I don't mean to be an asshole, but …"

"Oh," she realized, her eyebrows twitching up. "There's no need to apologize. I-I normally don't smoke. In fact …" Without a second of wait, she tossed the cigarette to her feet and stepped on it.

The strange man, who was apparently her neighbour, nodded to her in thanks. "Thanks. And I'm sorry for coming up to you in the middle of the night like this."

"That's okay," Hermione said to him, as if she actually meant it. "If you don't mind my asking, how long have you been living in this neighbourhood?"

"About a month now," he answered, stepping into the light a little bit before extending his hand to her. "Eric."

Taking note of the fact that he was quite a bit younger than she had originally thought, Hermione smiled, shaking hands with her new neighbour. "Caroline."

He smiled back. "It's nice to meet you, Caroline. Have you been living here long?"

"Five months and some weeks."

"And you're originally from England, I take it?"

For a split second she looked to him bewildered, suddenly remembering. "Oh — of course _._  My accent," she laughed, relaxing. "And yes, I'm from England. Born and raised."

"I have some family there. In Brighton, I think it's called," Eric offered.

"Oh, do you? Brighton's a beautiful city. The last time I was there I had the best fish and chips of my life," Hermione recalled, suddenly hungry.

"Well, hey … I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you're used to but there's this new fish and chips place about five minutes away from here," he told her. "My girlfriend loves going there."

There was a dash of surprise in Hermione's eyes. "I suppose I should give it a try then."

"Yeah, you really should," Eric nodded. "I'm sure your husband will like it, too."

Her stomach twitched a little. "H-how exactly do you know that I have one?"

He chewed the inside of his mouth, slightly embarrassed going by the colour of his cheeks. "I, uh … I kind of figured from the ring on your finger … and the raised voices that I heard earlier."

"Oh." Hermione gulped, feeling her own cheeks begin to fill with colour. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," Eric reassured her. "I stay up late most nights anyway."

"That makes two of us," she chimed in, glancing over her shoulder as she heard a car pull up into the driveway. Draco's car. "Sounds like he's back."

Her neighbour nodded, taking that as his cue to leave. "I guess we'll see each other around."

"Yeah, I guess we will," Hermione agreed, smiling to him shortly. "Have a good night."

"You, too," Eric smiled, retreating to his house as she watched for a second, her thoughts swiftly interrupted as the backdoor creaked open behind her.

Without looking, she rolled her eyes, walking past Draco on her way inside.

"Who was that?" he asked, letting the door swing shut as he faced her.

"That was Eric. Our new neighbour," Hermione clarified, even though she felt she didn't have to. In the kitchen now, she couldn't help but notice the fresh container of milk on the counter, still in the grocery bag. "That's where you went?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow at him.

The wizard nodded, putting the milk away. "Don't act so surprised."

Briefly taken aback, she snapped out of it as she suddenly felt a yawn coming on. "I suppose it's time for bed then."

"I'll take the couch tonight," Draco decided.

"What? No, no, you can't tonight. It's my turn. We have a system."

"Merlin's sake, Granger. Just let me be nice for once," he groaned.

Opening her mouth in protest, she fell silent as he left the kitchen just like that, curiously leaving the bedroom to her for the night.

**_The Next Night_ **

Boarding the train at Waterfront Station, Draco squeezed his way to the back, the stench of vodka caught in his clothes. He'd gone out for a drink with a few of his coworkers. On his way out, one of the other pub goers had accidentally bumped into him and spilled their drink all over his new coat. He pulled his wand out to clean it after, but eventually decided against magic. Even though it was dark out, and even though none of the passersby were looking, he couldn't risk being seen.

Suffice to say Hermione wasn't going to be pleased.

She'd bought the coat for him a few months back, given that his only outerwear had consisted of traveling cloaks and other wizarding clothes until he'd left for the mission.

Offering his seat to a pregnant woman, he decided to stand as the train sped through Waterfront, and down the Expo Line.

"Thank you."

Draco glanced up from his phone, through which he'd been texting Anna to hold off on the plans they'd made for later that week. "Er … no need," he said, offering a quick, rather curt smile to the pregnant woman.

One thing he missed about home was the freedom of being able to roam about without having to chat to a bunch of strangers along the way. They weren't quite  _rude_  in England, but they weren't nearly as talkative over there as they were in Canada.

Hermione loved it, of course.

The few times he had gone to the shops with her, or to the bank, she had given her — or rather  _Caroline's_  — life story to at least ten different people. For someone who was bullied for being an insufferable know-it-all all throughout her school years, she really was quite friendly.

Even towards that random bloke next-door.

Ethan or Eric or whatever his name was.

"Sorry if this is rude, but is that your natural hair colour?"

Draco tore his gaze away from his phone for the second time, a twitch of surprise in his gut at the question. "No," he blurted without meaning to, chest knotting up all of a sudden. "I mean yes. I-I'm greying a bit, so I decided to dye my hair, but I chose too dark of a colour." The more words that came out, the worse it sounded, but he kept going. "That's why it looks fake."

The pregnant woman nodded along utterly clueless, motioning to her own hair which appeared to have been dyed at one point. Probably before she was pregnant. "I used to dye my hair before … that's why I asked," she smiled. "That colour looks great on you. Do you mind if I touch it?"

"Er …" His stomach lurched as she leaned towards him suddenly. And for some reason, perhaps because she was pregnant, he tilted his head down so she could reach.  _This would never happen at home,_ he couldn't help but think.

"This feels great," she said to him cheerfully, bringing her mouth towards his ear in the seconds that followed. "I don't mean to freak you out, but there's a creepy looking guy a few rows down who's been looking straight at you for the past five minutes."

Draco's eyebrows bounced up, and before he could turn his head around to look, he felt the to-be mother grab his wrist.

"Don't look," she cautioned, speaking to him urgently, but maintaining a calm expression.

He asked the first question that came to mind. "Why not?"

"Well, for one, he looks like he could take five of you at the same time."

"That's a bit presumptuous," Draco uttered, resisting the urge to tell her that he could transfigure the bloke into a Christmas ornament and hang him up on one of the trees in Pacific Centre if he'd the desire to do so.

She smirked. "He's also wearing an  _Afterlife_  uniform. Black leather jacket with an upside martini glass stitched to the back. One of the bouncers, I'd say."

" _Afterlife_? As in the nightclub?"

The pregnant woman nodded.

"What's so bad about that place? Apart from the awful music and drug use, I mean."

"You didn't hear the news?" She raised an eyebrow at Draco in surprise. "The owner of  _Afterlife_  and a few of his bouncers were being investigated for a bunch of fucked up shit like a month ago. They apparently beat the shit out of some university student, but the charges were dropped," she explained. "Come to think of it, you kind of resemble the guy they beat up. Tall, nicely dressed, about the same age … English, even. He was blond, though."

Draco ignored the anxious twist in his gut. "I'm sure it's only a coincidence."

"Yeah, you're probably right," the pregnant woman nodded, looking up at the nearest window as the train pulled up to the next station. "Anyway, this is me. It was nice chatting," she smiled, nodding to him in thanks as he gently helped her up. "I'd steer clear of that bouncer if I were you. Have a good one."

Before he could say anything, she squeezed past him and through the sliding doors.

Although she'd advised against it, he glanced over his shoulder as the train took off again, chest pounding the second he saw the guy that the pregnant woman had been talking about. Indeed, he looked as though he could have taken five of Draco at the same time, and all without a sweat, but that wasn't the alarming part.

The part that truly made Draco's skin crawl, was the manner in which the bouncer was looking at him.

Much like Greyback used to.

Swallowing hard, the wizard discreetly turned his head back around, remembering in those few moments that  _Afterlife_  was located right near the pub where he'd been earlier. There was a good chance the bouncer had seen him outside and followed him onto the train.

In a moment of panic, he pulled his phone out and sent a text to the only person that felt right.

_To: Caroline Grey_

_Where are you?_

She was usually good at replying promptly, but that night she took her time. He couldn't help but worry, his mind racing with all sorts of possibilities.

_To: Jason Grey_

_Closing up. Why?_

Hurriedly, he typed what little he could as he reached the station closest to Caroline's bookshop.

_To: Caroline Grey_

_Stay there and lock the doors. I'll meet you in five minutes._

He switched his phone to silent after, knowing she'd call and demand an explanation, urgently. Although she was more than capable of taking care of herself, there was a small part of him that felt doubly responsible for her safety than he did his own. In part due to the promise that he had made to Potter before leaving for the mission, and in part due to his own instincts.

They weren't actually married, but he still thought of her as family, strangely. She was the closest thing to a real friend that he had on what felt like an endless mission, and he realized just then … how stupid he'd been the past five months. Whilst Hermione had kept close watch on all of the places The Collective were said to be — a lounge downtown, a park and a few other locations — Draco couldn't help but feel as though he'd been asleep the past five months.

Needless to say, he'd finally woken up.

Abruptly speeding off at the next station, he felt the bouncer follow him.

Given the hour, and the part of the city where it was located, the station was mostly empty. To his great displeasure, there was only a small group of high school students and an elderly woman on the platform. Without glancing back, he rushed past them and towards the stairs, taking them out onto the glistening city streets.

The bookshop was only a short walk away, but he wasn't sure he wanted to direct the bouncer to where Hermione was waiting. Pulling his phone out again, he used the reflection on the empty screen to see if he was still being followed. Surely enough, the bouncer emerged from the station only a few seconds after him.

If he hadn't been undercover, he'd have simply Apparated out of sight, but he couldn't do that.

Taking to one of the busier streets, Draco hoped to lose the bouncer amongst the crowd of people who'd just gotten off the bus. Slipping between them, he hopped onto the bus without a moment of thought, ducking his head as the bouncer walked right past the bus doors. It was only as the bus took off that Draco stood up, glancing through the back window to find the bouncer looking for him in the crowd, going after a similar looking young man until he realized he had the wrong person.

 _That was fucking close,_ Draco thought to himself, stepping off the bus two stops later, directly in front of the bookshop.

* * *

Hermione paced the front, periodically glancing down at her phone to see if he'd called or texted her back. Although she'd never gone through it when she was in school, she felt much like a high school girl waiting for her boyfriend to text her back. Except Draco wasn't her boyfriend, and he had always been rather bad at texting her back.

They only really texted each other when they had to — to open the front door if one of them had forgotten their key, to remind the other to pick up milk or some sort of household necessity, etc.

It was never like this.

It was never anything serious.

Holding in the urge to call him again, her insides jumped as someone knocked on the back door.

To her knowledge, Draco had gone out drinking with some friends from the university. He was a professor there. Or rather, Jason Grey was a professor there. He taught Business to a small class of first year students. Why Kingsley had assigned Draco the professor job instead of her, a  _much_  more qualified person, Hermione had no idea. She figured Kingsley wanted to give her an easier, less time consuming job, so she could focus more on the mission.

At least she hoped.

Brushing past the bookshelves and into the unlit corridor, Hermione approached the back door, a twitch of uncertainty in her stomach before she felt her wand grow hot.

That was the signal.

Without a moment of thought, she unlocked the back door and opened it, hurriedly stepping back as Draco came racing inside. His hair was a mess and his cheeks were bright red as though he'd been out, walking in the cold for quite a long time. Roughly pressing the door closed and locking it, he slowly turned around to face her, exhaling.

"What happened?" Hermione demanded, question marks in her eyes as she looked to him.

"There was a … there was a woman on the train …" Draco panted, collecting his breath. "She … she said the man was staring … an  _Afterlife_  bouncer. Something about a university student … he had blond hair like I do … it … it's too much of a coincidence. They know … they have to … to know about us …"

She pressed her lips together impatiently, bringing him into the front of the bookshop and giving him her water bottle. "Slowly now. Have a drink and explain everything to me."

Pushing the bottle away, he instead approached the front desk, positioning himself in front of the computer.

"Wh-what do you think you're doing?" Hermione blurted.

Without a word, Draco opened the browser and searched up  _Afterlife_ , dozens of articles popping up detailing an assault that had apparently taken place a month prior. He clicked on the first one and made room so Hermione could read it, too.

After a few minutes of reading, she looked to him questioningly.

"You think  _Afterlife_  know about us?"

Draco breathed out, running a hand through his hair. "I don't what to think. All I know is that one of theirs were following me just now. What reason would they have to do that if not because they know?"

Chewing on her bottom lip in thought, Hermione weighed the possibilities. "Well, you do look a lot like the student they assaulted a month ago. He even has your hair colour — the real one."

"Exactly."

"So, why've they not come after us if they know?"

"Maybe they don't know enough," Draco speculated. "I'm sure they're trying to be more careful this time."

"Following you probably isn't the best way to go about doing that."

"Well, clearly they're not very good at covering their tracks, are they?"

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I'll go there tomorrow."

"You'll  _what_?" Draco snapped.

"I'll go to Afterlife," she furthered. "In disguise, obviously."

"That's arguably the worst idea you've ever had."

"What's so bad about it? I'll put on a dress, tweak my appearance a little, and see what I can find in there," the witch detailed. "This is the closest thing we've had to a lead since coming here. Do you not want to solve this thing and go home?"

His jaw tensed. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's — forget it. You're right," he uttered, distantly, moving away from the computer now. "You go to  _Afterlife_  tomorrow, and I'll see if I can find that student, ask him what happened that night. He's studying photography at the university where I work."

Hermione looked to him a for a moment, a trace of concern in her eyes. "Strange that you didn't know of the assault until now."

"You didn't either."

"I was too busy investigating the locations we were given," she countered, folding her arms. "So, are we finally going to work together?"

"About that …" Draco began, meeting eyes with his partner. "I'm going to call it off with Anna."

"The barista?"

He nodded.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Why? I thought you liked her."

"I do like her," he offered, his bottom lip twitching after. "I like having sex with her at least … but it's too risky now. Considering what happened tonight, I can't be drawing attention to her just because I'm horny. She's an innocent person."

"You do realize that's exactly what I've been telling you all this time, don't you?"

Draco sighed. "Yes, and I'm sorry that I've taken so long to wake up."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked past him, grabbing her car keys and bag from the counter. "If you're that horny, just have a wank like a normal person," she suggested to him casually, leading the way as they left the bookshop, and approached the red car that was parked along the curb.

She pushed the button to unlock it, climbing into the drivers seat, as Draco climbed into the front passenger seat beside her.

Once they were buckled in and moving, he looked to her, curiously.

"Is that what you've been doing all this time?"

"What are you on about?" Hermione asked, driving towards the bridge.

"It's been five months. Surely you've had a wank yourself."

A small jolt of surprise went through her, but she didn't show it in her face. "I'm quite certain my sex life has nothing to do with the mission."

Draco snorted. "So, you can take a bunch of snide, unnecessary jabs at me for  _my_  sex life, but I can't ask if you've had a wank in the past five months?"

"Exactly."

He narrowed his eyes at her, dully. "What about neighbour boy?"

"Eric?" she questioned. "What about him?"

"Would you fuck him?"

"Malfoy!" she admonished, her mouth falling agape.

He snorted with laughter. "Oh, lighten up a little. We're adults."

"So? That doesn't mean I'm required to decide whether I'd have sex with every handsome guy I come across."

"Oh, so you think he's handsome?" Draco teased.

Hermione glared at him, but only briefly as she was driving. "First of all, he has a girlfriend."

"Second?"

"Second," she inserted. "He thinks I'm married to  _you_ , idiot."

"Well, let's think about it differently …" Draco suggested. "If he were single, and if you had met under lighter circumstances, would you consider it?"

Her lips twitched apart as if she'd meant to tell him off again, only to fall silent as she gave it an ounce of thought.

"I-I don't know. This is weird. He has a girlfriend," she uttered.

"It's just for fun, Granger."

"I know that, but I just — I can't. Okay?"

Realizing he'd touched something of a nerve, Draco dropped the subject, unbuckling his seatbelt as Hermione pulled into their driveway. Without saying anything, they stepped out of the car and through the front door of the house, taking to separate corners the way they did every night.

Hermione stayed awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling as she lay in bed, her thoughts clouded and her insides tangled. Looking to the door to make sure it was closed, she slid a hand under the covers and closed her eyes, surprising even herself at what slowly but surely came to mind.


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter Two: **

Sitting at the front desk with a half-eaten wrap and a cup of coffee that had gone cold, for lunch, Hermione browsed through the articles on  _Afterlife_ , giving them yet another read in the three and a half hours since she'd opened up the bookshop that morning.

She had nothing against operating a bookshop. In fact she was rather ecstatic when Kingsley had initially told her that she was going to be working there for the duration of the mission. She had a special place in her heart for all things literature. But she'd have liked some human interaction. It was no secret that the Muggle world had changed quite a lot in the years since she had left it all behind. The larger part of the Muggle world had no interest in books anymore. It was all about smartphones and social media and other means of distraction. She'd nothing against those things — not really — but she'd have appreciated some interest where her shop was concerned.

The last time she'd spoken to anyone besides shop clerks, and Draco, was three days ago. A teenager had come in looking for a part-time job. Given the state of the shop, she couldn't afford to hire anyone, even part-time, but she wished she could have. At least that way, she'd have had a human being to talk to.

Breathing out loudly, Hermione leaned away from the computer, tilting her head up at the ceiling hoping that it would just open up and swallow her already.

 _Maybe the idiot was onto something,_ she thought.  _Maybe I'd feel better if I were to meet someone … have a bit of fun._

Naturally she'd never have allowed herself to actually go through with something like that — a fiery one-night-stand during what felt like an endless mission — but the thought was nice.

The last time she'd slept with someone, was before the mission.

One of the blokes at the Ministry had taken her on a date. He was a little older than she was used to, but he was nice. It might have worked out had she not gone off to Vancouver two weeks after they'd met.

She couldn't even explain why. That was the worst part about going undercover. Nobody outside of the Auror Office could know, and even then it was higher-ups only.

 _He's probably seeing someone else now,_ she figured, not even sad about it at this point.

Suddenly, her stomach started to rumble, seemingly displeased with the lunch that she'd nibbled on earlier. All that talk of fish and chips had given her a craving that a wrap just couldn't satisfy. On a whim, she leaned towards her computer and searched the words 'new fish and chips place', waiting five long seconds for the results to pop up.

To her surprise the first result seemed to be the exact one that Eric had mentioned the other night. It was close to home and had five star reviews across the board. With one look at the photos that the restaurant goers had posted on  _Yelp_ , Hermione gulped down on the wetness which soon filled her mouth, and decided on the spot that she not only  _needed_ those fish and chips,  _she deserved it_.

* * *

"Excuse me, professor, can you help me with something?"

Draco lifted his gaze from the Facebook profile he'd been scrolling through. His morning class had only just finished. It was customary for a few of the more eager students to come to his office and ask him questions after the lecture. Thinking it was one of them, he glanced up, instead meeting eyes with the last person he had expected to find at his office on a Thursday morning.

"Anna, what in the world are you doing here?" Draco demanded, throat hitching as he noticed a couple students look over at them as they passed by the door, probably wondering what words were being exchanged between Professor Grey and the beautiful, slightly younger woman who'd come to see him.

She wasn't a student at the university, but she did work at the Starbucks down the street. Most, if not all of the students who were interested in women, referred to Anna as the 'hot redhead' or the 'Starbucks thot', whatever thot meant.

"You don't look very happy to me …" she deduced.

Swallowing the urge to tell her that he absolutely wasn't happy, Draco walked over to the door of his office, nudging past her as he abruptly closed it.

Anna smirked, dropping her  _Kate Spade_  bag to the floor as she came towards him. "That's more like it, Professor Grey."

"No, no —" the wizard uttered, avoiding contact as best he could. "Anna, stop. We can't do this right now."

"It won't take long," she assured him, smiling as she dropped down to her knees and reached for his belt. "It never does when you're with me."

Draco gulped hard, freezing for only a second before he backed away again, bringing the barista to her feet. "This … this has to stop."

"What's going on with you?" Anna asked, finally noticing that he was serious. "I thought you loved my blowjobs."

"I do," he said without thinking, face screwing after. "I mean, I don't. I mean, it's not that there's anything wrong with the way you — I just —"

"It's her, isn't it?" the barista gathered, frowning as she looked to him.

He glanced off to the side, mostly to avoid eye contact. "If you're referring to my wife, then —"

"I'm referring to the ugly bitch who's always calling you when your cock is either halfway down my throat or pounding my pussy like a fucking horse."

"Anna, have you  _absolutely_  lost your mind?"

She breathed out, coming towards him again, this time slowly. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just … I found this new toy at the sex shop near my apartment, and I couldn't wait to try it out with you, so here I am."

Draco rubbed the exhaustion from his face. "You can't be here."

"Why?"

"Because this is where I work," he explained, clearly. "People here are already whispering about the state of my marriage, and why my wife is never at any social gatherings or events at the school."

Anna folded her arms. "Well, maybe you should take that as a sign that it's not working out with her."

"You don't know that."

"I think that I do," she snorted. "So, is this why you canceled on me for later this week?"

"Yes, amongst other reasons," Draco said to her, rather curtly.

"Okay, okay. So, let me get this straight. You think you can fuck me repeatedly for five months, and then magically go back to your wife like nothing happened?" Anna inquired, borderline amused. "You really are a piece of shit, you know that?"

He didn't even bother arguing it. "Trust me, you have no idea."

Slowly losing her smile, the barista looked to him with angry tears pooling around her eyes all of a sudden. "So, this is it? No breakup sex? Nothing?"

"We were never together," Draco said, not exactly in the way he'd intended. "Y-you have a boyfriend, don't you?"

"Had," she corrected, the light in his office bouncing off the tears in her eyes. "I broke it off with him. For  _you_. And this is how you repay me!"

"Anna, listen. I —"

"No! I come all this way to see you and you're just going to drop me for no reason? Because I'm pretty fucking sure you don't love your wife. I hear the way you talk to her over the phone. It's like she's your sister or a … or a coworker or something."

He flinched at the last part, releasing the tension in his system as he came towards Anna, rubbing her shoulders. "I'm sorry. If I could, I'd do it all differently, but I can't," he explained to her in a calm, soothing voice. "There's just … there are things that I have to do, things that need my attention right now. I can't be going off having sex with you, whilst my wife is handling all of it on her own."

"What's the matter? Is she sick or something?" the barista asked, dully.

"Something like that, yes."

"Whatever," Anna sighed, hurriedly wiping her eyes as if she were ashamed to even have reacted that way. "I'll go then."

Draco looked to her as she grabbed her bag and approached the door. "I'm sorry," he said to her, one last time before she glanced back at him and then vanished, out of sight.

**_Twenty Minutes Later_ **

The entire restaurant smelled like home, or at least like the chip shop in Brighton.

Collecting her order from the counter, Hermione nodded thanks to the girl who'd prepared it, the rumbling sound in her stomach growing louder as she tried to look for an empty table. There was a high school nearby. Most of the students seemed to have taken a liking to the new chip shop.

"Caroline!" someone called out, from the far end of the restaurant. "Caroline, over here!"

Hermione turned around, following the sound of the voice to find her neighbour, Eric, and by his side, a pretty blonde woman. Presumably his girlfriend.

There was a twitch of uncertainty in the witch's gut. She'd nothing against Eric, or his girlfriend, but she much preferred eating alone. But of course, there was no empty spots apart from the one at their table. Ignoring the uncertainty, Hermione proceeded towards them, carrying her tray with her as if she were a weird high school girl who had been invited to sit with the popular group at lunch.

"It's good to see you!" Eric greeted, smiling as they three of them sat down together, glancing to his girlfriend after. "Gemma, this is Caroline … the neighbour that I was telling you about," he explained, gladly. "And Caroline, this is the love of my life, Gemma."

Hermione's eyebrows bounced up at the last part. "Well, then …"

Gemma chuckled. "You'll have to excuse Eric. He always gets like this when we're having good food," she noted, smiling as she held her hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Caroline."

Shaking hands with her, Hermione nodded in agreement. "It's nice to meet you as well. Eric said you two have just moved here. How are you liking the neighbourhood?"

"Oh, it's beautiful. The air is fresh and the people are so nice," Gemma explained. "It wasn't like this in New York."

"Is that where you're from?"

She nodded. "Manhattan. We bumped into each other when I was walking my dog one morning, and we've been together ever since."

"That's beautiful," Hermione said, quite sincerely at that.

"How did you meet your boyfriend?" Gemma asked, casually munching on her food.

"Oh, er … he's my husband, actually. And we met at a party when we were in our early twenties …" the witch recalled, having gone a solid three months without having to repeat the story.

"Is he here?" Eric asked. "I'd love to meet him, ask how he likes the Tesla."

Hermione tensed, feeling slightly embarrassed now. "No, he's at work, I'm afraid. He teaches at the university. Business."

"Oh, a professor? He must be a really smart guy," Gemma said, kindly.

"I mean, I guess so," Hermione shrugged without thinking.

The couple looked to her blankly for a second, their attention soon drifting to Gemma's phone as it started ringing.

"Oh, shit. It's work. I should take this," she uttered.

Eric carried on eating, unbothered as his girlfriend got up and went outside to answer the call.

It was silent for a few moments after. Hermione got a good start on her food, sighing periodically due to how good it tasted. It wasn't as good as Brighton, but it was beautifully close. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with one of the napkins, leaning back in her chair after just to breathe.

"Good, right?" Eric asked.

She laughed, nodding to him. "I'll have to bring my husband one of these days."

"You definitely should. We can all come here together if he likes it," her neighbour offered.

"That sounds like a nice idea, actually. I can't remember the last time we went out to eat together …"

"Sounds like he's a busy guy," Eric said, in no particular way. "Does he work a lot?"

Hermione gave it a moment of thought, quickly shrugging. "It's nothing like that," she reassured her neighbour. "We just … we both prefer to cook our meals at home and eat there instead of in a crowded restaurant."

"Oh, definitely. Sorry if my question came off rude. I didn't mean anything by it."

"That's okay," she said, brushing it off.

"Well, hey … if you and the husband are free later, why don't you come around to our place?" he asked. "Gemma and I are throwing a game night. A couple of our friends from back home will be there. We'll have good food and great wine."

Her chest squeezed at the sound of that. A fun night with friends. "I'd love to …"

"I feel a but coming on," Eric gathered.

"But," Hermione said, reluctantly as ever. "Jason and I have already made plans for tonight."

"Date night?"

"Er … yes," she decided. "Date night."

In actuality, of course, Hermione hadn't any such plans. Instead of a date night with her husband, she was going to spend her evening at the darkest, seediest nightclub in the city, on her own.

And she couldn't have been more thrilled about it.

**_Later That Night_ **

Draco pulled up to the curb, looking to Hermione as she tugged at the skirt of her dress.

"You're going to make a tear in it if you keep doing that."

She scrunched her lips into a frown. "Did you have to pick something so …  _suggestive_?"

"Granger, you're going to a nightclub."

"Yes, so?"

"So, you have to blend in a little," he furthered, as if it were obvious. "It's not even that short."

Rolling her eyes at him, Hermione grabbed the door handle, the cold air from outside slipping in as she opened the door just a crack.

"Wait, wait. Before you go …" Draco uttered to her, suddenly leaning over.

She glanced back at him, a swift hitch in her chest as he reached over to fix her hair — or rather Nora Winters' hair. That was the name and identity she was taking for the night. Unlike Caroline, Nora was from LA instead of London, had wavy auburn hair instead of straight brown hair, and a love for anything and everything designer.

The witch looked to Draco with question marks in her eyes as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, only then looking down at the tiny earpiece that he had in his hand.

Without a word, he placed it carefully in her left ear, covering it with the same lock of hair which he had brushed aside earlier.

"Now we can talk when you're in there," he explained, casually.

Hermione hesitated, having recognized the earpiece from her ex-boyfriend's joke shop otherwise known as  _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_.

To her knowledge the earpiece itself was largely sold to Hogwarts students who were looking to chat to friends from different Houses after hours, during detentions, etc. She'd never used one herself, especially not for a mission where countless people were relying on them to get the job done, but she hadn't the time to take a look at the reviews.

"I'll meet you at Waterfront Station in two hours," she said, just as they'd planned. "If anything goes wrong, or if we lose contact at any point, don't go looking for me. Inform either Harry or Kingsley, and secure the house as best you can."

He flinched at the last part, but nodded anyway. That was Ministry protocol. If one partner went missing, it was the other's job to make sure the mission was still afoot. "Two hours," he echoed back to her.

With that, Hermione took a deep breath and then opened the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk after which Draco slowly but surely pulled away from the curb in front of Waterfront Station. He had agreed to drop her off a few blocks away from  _Afterlife_  just to be on the safe side. There was a good chance the bouncer from the other night was working the door, and they hadn't the desire to risk it. Not when there was only two of them.

Forging onward, Hermione calmly made her way past the many pubs and restaurants which lined the streets of Gastown, the bright lights of  _Afterlife_  penetrating her thoughts as she approached it.

As expected, there was a long line of people waiting to get in.

She had never gone clubbing in Vancouver before, only in London a few times with the girls, but those were all wizarding clubs. Everything she knew of Muggle nightclubs, she had learned from the films and television shows that had watched during those long summers at her parents' house. In the last of those summers, she had also learned to drive, having felt that it was necessary at the time given that she was of age, and still technically Muggle-born by blood. She'd no idea that the ability to drive would ever come in handy.

On a mission no less.

Quietly thinking back to how annoyed Draco was when Kingsley told him that he'd have to learn to drive for the sake of the mission, Hermione couldn't help but smirk, feeling quite pleased with herself for already having learned.

"Hey, beautiful …"

Her thoughts were cut short as she reached the entrance of the nightclub, swiftly taking notice of the group of young men who were huddled outside, staring her up and down as if her dress were see-through.

Narrowing her eyes at them, she approached the door the way Draco had told her to, a quickness in her chest as the bouncer let her through without the slightest bit of fuss.

"I guess I look good tonight," she whispered under her breath, only then remembering that Draco could hear her through the earpiece.

" _I told you they'd let you in_ ," he said, her muscles locking when she heard his voice through the earpiece.

The sound quality had taken her by surprise more than anything else. It was insanely loud inside  _Afterlife_. Loud, hazy and crowded, as it were something out of a drug-induced hallucination. She supposed that was the point, though.

Unlike the nightclubs she'd been to back home,  _Afterlife_  was three floors. The first floor was the main one, where the club-goers were dancing and grinding and making the most of their nights, smoke and lights and speakers everywhere. The second floor was a bit calmer, and had more of a lounge feel to it, complete with tables and bottle service and three very shapely dancers on stage, entrancing everyone who dared to enter. The third and last floor was guarded by two very burly bouncers, their arms folded across their wide chests, and the familiar upside martini glass symbol stitched to their t-shirts and the backs of their black leather jackets.

Hermione knew within seconds the third floor was where she needed to be. If there was anything to find, it had to be on there. The only question was how.

Climbing up the spiral staircase between floors, she made her way to the second floor, and took a seat in front of the bar there, which was significantly less crowded than the one on the first floor. Gently placing one leg on top of the other, she slowly fingered through her hair. Again, the way Draco had advised.

She glanced to the bartender as he approached her.

"Hey, there. What can I get you?" he asked, his name-tag reading Aaron.

Hermione smiled, but not too wide. "I'll have a whiskey neat. Thanks."

"One whiskey neat coming right up," he said, getting to work within seconds as he walked away.

There was one, maybe two moments of wait before that nagging voice in the back of her head — or rather, the inside of her left ear — returned.

" _Whiskey? Bit strong for someone who drinks twice a year_."

Hermione rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her, discreetly turning her head to the side as she muttered a quick response. "Just because I don't drink with you, doesn't mean I don't like to normally."

" _Yeah, yeah. Let me know when something interesting happens._ "

Nodding thanks to the bartender as he slid her drink over, she swiftly ignored the voice in her ear and had a sip of the whiskey. Although there was a bit of a burning sensation in the back of her throat, it was nothing compared to warmth and the quickness of firewhiskey. Still, she enjoyed it, quietly taking note of the fact that she'd not had a drink at all since her first month in Vancouver.

Draco went out drinking all the time, of course, and in all fairness, he always offered to bring her along, but she had gotten used to saying no. Not because she had anything against his coworkers, but more because she felt out of place amongst them. Much like how Ron had felt when she had brought him along to her Ministry work gatherings. Quietly coming to terms with the fact that he wasn't simply  _unsupportive_  and  _self-involved_ the way she had thought, and said directly to his face before they had finally broken up, her heart sunk with guilt.

"Sorry to bother you, miss, but … can I get a look at that ID?"

Snapping back to reality, Hermione glanced to the right to find a tall, handsome  _Afterlife_  worker, beside her. Like the others, he was wearing the leather jacket with the symbol on it, but there was a distinct kindness in his eyes that was absent in the bouncers and even the bartender.

Suddenly remembering that he'd asked her a question, she parted her lips, a little bit of whiskey dribbling out, and spilling on the lap of her dress, accidentally. "Shit …"

" _You've destroyed the McQueen, haven't you_?"

Hermione ignored the voice, hurriedly opening her clutch and pulling out two pieces of ID.

"Thanks," the handsome worker said to her, taking one look at the ID. His eyebrows bounced up a moment later. "Nora Winters?" he asked, looking to her.

Pausing a second, she nodded. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

"No problem at all," he said, handing her back her ID and then reaching into his back pocket for what looked like a stamp of some sort. "Someone was supposed to check your ID and stamp you when you entered," the worker explained. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Oh," Hermione practically laughed, the knot in her gut quickly unraveling. "That's okay."

In the quiet that followed, she extended her hand, breath catching in her throat as he stamped the back of her hand with quite a bit of force.

"Sorry. That didn't hurt, did it?" he inquired, a curious glimmer in his dark green eyes.

Hermione opened her mouth to say yes, but the voice in her head — the actual one, not Draco — urged her not to. "Not at all. I'm just a bit tipsy from the drink, I think."

"Of course, of course. Well, if you need anything at all, come find me, Miss Winters. The name's Ian," he introduced, shaking hands with her briefly.

Without meaning to, she gave him the hand that he had stamped, which had gone all sweaty after he'd demolished it with the stamp.

"Ian," Hermione repeated as they separated. "I'll do that."

Smiling to her briefly, he nodded his head in farewell and than walked off, vanishing behind the two bouncers that were guarding the third floor.

The witch quickly turned back around, pounding her whiskey to combat the nerves that suddenly exploded in her stomach. "That was weird," she whispered, covering her lips a little to keep from drawing attention to herself.

" _What happened? Do you think he meant to hurt you?_ "

She chewed her bottom lip in thought, taking another drink of whiskey. "I don't know. It was just … off. There was something off about him. First he was nice and then he was …"

" _Suspicious_ ," Draco finished.

Hermione nodded, glancing back at the bouncers again, a young woman of roughly the same age and shape as Hermione walking past them, escorted through by an  _Afterlife_  worker whose overall vibe was quite similar to that of Ian's. There was a twitch of curiosity in her gut at the sight of it, and without a moment of wait, she turned to the bartender who had served her earlier.

"Hey, excuse me, would you mind telling me what those big guys over there are guarding?"

Shifting his attention to her her, Bartender Aaron peeled his lips apart, hesitantly. "Uh … it's just VIP," he explained. "Private rooms, lap dances … that sort of thing."

She nodded along. "And what kind of people are allowed up there?"

"People who can afford it," Aaron shrugged. "Or just whoever Kharon wants."

"Kharon?"

"The guy who owns the place," he clarified, pouring a reddish drink over a row of shot glasses before one of the servers carried them away on a tray, and into VIP. "Rich as shit, owns half the city and speaks five languages."

Hermione remembered just then that she had read about  _Afterlife's_  owner in the articles. In them, they had referred to him by his real name, Sebastian Beauchamp, though she supposed that was a bit boring compared to a name like Kharon.

"Can I get you another drink? Aaron asked.

"Oh, no, I'm fine, tha —"

" _Say yes. Keep him talking._ "

" — Come to think of it, I could  _totally_  go for another," Hermione blurted, cheeks flushing.

"What would you like?" the bartender asked, unperturbed.

"Um … maybe one of those red things you made earlier?"

"An obol? Great choice," he said, getting started on it. "I have to warn you, though. They're a bit strong."

"That's fine. I could use a good, strong drink," Hermione decided. "Have you been working here long?"

Aaron shrugged, mixing and shaking. "Just under three weeks now."

"Oh, so you weren't working here when  _the_   _thing_  happened?"

"The thing in the papers?" he asked, shaking his head no after. "I came in after they fired the last guy. He was apparently the one who leaked the story."

Hermione's eyebrows twitched up.

" _Bit shit at keeping secrets, isn't he?_ "

Clearing her throat, she leaned over. "Well, you're doing a great job."

Aaron glanced up, smiling. "Thanks. I've only started bartending, so I was a bit intimidated to be working in a place like this, but the people here are all really nice. Nothing like how they say in the news."

"What's Kharon like … if you don't mind my asking?"

"Oh, he's great. I figured a guy like him would be too busy to hang out and remember names, but he's really on top of his shit," Aaron explained, pouring Hermione's drink into a glass and sliding it to her. "There's nothing that happens in  _Afterlife_  that Kharon doesn't know about."

She took note of that. "Cool."

"Yeah, definitely," Aaron nodded, sparing a second before he leaned towards her. "If you want to go up into the VIP section, your best bet is to be  _seen_ ," he whispered, darting a quick look at one of the many security cameras inside the nightclub.

Hermione followed his line of sight, nodding to the bartender in thanks and placing her payment, along with a generous tip, onto the counter, and then getting up. Drink in hand, she sauntered off to the far end of the second floor, away from the bar and the dancers, and towards the reflective glass wall, a beautiful view of the city on the other side.

Without a care in the world, she turned her back to the window and glanced at her reflection over her shoulder, sticking her bottom out as far as she could as if checking herself out.

There were cameras on either side of the wall, suspended along the top corners, and after a bit of posing and unnecessary touching of the hair and the sides of her waist, she felt both cameras turn to her, focusing in.

" _You've gone quiet. What's happening?_ "

She smiled to herself. "Don't you worry about it, Professor Grey."

" _Professor Grey?_ " he snorted. " _Someone's had a bit to drink, haven't they?_ "

Without saying a word she carried on, swaying to the music now, and coming to a slow, reluctant stop as she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Miss Winters?"

She calmly turned around, unsurprised to find Ian. "Hello, again."

"Hello," he greeted, bowing his head to her. "If you're not too busy, the owner of  _Afterlife_  would love to make your acquaintance."

"In VIP?"

Ian nodded. "Right this way."

Collecting her breath, Hermione followed Ian to where the two, burly bouncers were standing. In the back of her mind, she knew that meeting with the owner could very well go horribly wrong, especially if he had sent that bouncer after Draco the other night, but there was no point in hiding and living in fear of the unknown.

" _Be careful, Granger._ "

She gulped down on the anxious lump in her throat, instinctively smiling to the bouncers as they made way for her to pass through. Ian led the way, one or two steps ahead of her. They climbed up the spiral staircase and to a pair of large double doors. Ian opened them for her, motioning for her to proceed.

"Thank you," Hermione nodded to him, passing through the doors and into VIP.

Unlike the first and second floors of  _Afterlife_ , the third floor was almost completely silent. There was some music pouring out from within the private rooms, where Hermione was sure all sorts of activities were taking place, but other than that, VIP was a lot calmer and dimmer and quite a bit hazier than she had imagined.

The room was circular, two corridors on either side, presumably where the private rooms were located; an ornate, divan-style, blood red sofa in the middle; and a small, circular table in front of it, on top of which there was a shimmery, red crystal of some sort. Like the mood crystals they sold in gift shops. On the sofa, there were three people. Two women, one of whom Hermione had recognized from earlier, and an otherworldly looking man who was dressed in all black.

White hair, caramel skin as if he'd just come back from a trip, and a sharp, angular face.

Only one name came to mind when she saw him.

She stopped in her tracks as he glanced up, his lips fixing themselves into a smile at just the sight of her.

"Nora Winters," he greeted, speaking the name as though casting a spell. "It's good to meet you. I'm Kharon."

Hermione tensed, but only a bit. "So I've heard."

"Ian, be a good boy and escort these beautiful young ladies back to the main area," Kharon said, speaking to his worker. "I'd like to speak with Miss Winters in private if you don't mind."

Ian promptly did as he was asked. "At once, sir."

In a matter of seconds the circular room was empty. It was just Hermione and the owner, Kharon. Even the music in the private rooms had slowly started to fade, leaving only the distant thump of the music downstairs, and the pounding inside Hermione's chest.

She wondered if Kharon could hear it.

She wondered if Draco could.

"Do have a seat," Kharon said to her, motioning to the sofa.

Ignoring the quickness in her chest, Hermione came forward, taking a seat beside the club owner, just a foot away.

"I couldn't help but notice that you have an obol," he began, nodding to the drink in her hand — the one she had ordered earlier. "How do you like it?"

She glanced down at it, having forgotten for a moment that she had it. "Um … I'll try it now …" the witch decided, bringing the glass to her lips and tilting it back, slowly.

To her surprise, it tasted quite minty.

Like a mojito but less tropical and more velvety.

Swallowing the drink, she felt her body react to it rather quickly. All of a sudden, her brain went fuzzy, and her skin felt numb all over. For a split second she thought she had been drugged, but the sensation lasted only as long as it took for the drink to go down her throat and into the depths of her body.

Something about it didn't feel right.

With every ounce of strength that she had, Hermione kept a straight face, smiling as she held the glass in her hands, delicately.

"That was really good," she lied, placing what was left of her obol on the table.

Kharon kept his eyes on her, fixated on the subtle changes in her expression. "For some reason, I thought you wouldn't like it."

"Why's that?"

"Just a thought," he said, reaching into his back pocket for what appeared to be a remote control of some sort, pushing the larges button.

Hermione stilled, the dimness in the room suddenly flooded in pale, blue light as one of the walls that she thought was empty, came to life in the shape of dozens of monitors, all of them showing different parts of the nightclub.

"I saw you the moment you entered, Miss Winters."

Something in her gut gently squeezed. "Did you?"

Kharon nodded, pushing another button on the remote control, after which all the monitors came together, and the scene before them was the one that had taken place just a moment ago.

There Nora was, staring at herself in the reflection on the window, swaying to the music as if she knew someone was watching.

"You're quite special, you know that?"

Hermione tensed. "How do you mean?"

"Unlike the girls who were in here earlier, you didn't put on a show for everyone. You put one on for  _me_ ," the club owner explained, reducing his voice to a low murmur as he uttered the last bit.

Skin prickling with discomfort, she instinctively held her breath as he leaned towards her.

"I like that about you, Miss Winters. I like that very much," he added, whispering the words right into her ear, so close to the earpiece that she half-expected it combust. But it didn't.

In fact not a sound had escaped the earpiece since she'd entered VIP.

Hermione closed her eyes as he came a bit closer, her throat clumping up.

"What do you say we go into one of the private rooms?" he suggested, the warmth of his breath traveling down her neck. "Only if you'd like to, of course."

Every inch of her body was shouting no, but she couldn't just pass up the opportunity to be alone with him. There was too much relying on that night, too many people who were counting on both her and Draco to do the job. And in that moment the job consisted of getting the answers that she needed.

Any chance that she had to put the club owner in a vulnerable position, she had to take.

She simply had to.

"I'd like that," Hermione said, bringing a flicker of surprise to Kharon's eyes, and then a wave of desire.

Quietly rising from the sofa, she followed the club owner into the corridor on the left, wondering just how many women he had lured to these private rooms, and how often. As they passed by one of the rooms, she could have sworn she heard moaning.

"Here we are …" Kharon interjected, unlocking the door to the room at the end of the corridor.

Hermione forced a smile, brushing past him as he held the door open for her.

The room was a lot larger than she had expected. Larger and furnished as if it were something straight out of an erotic vampire novel. Candelabras, velvet and large, haunting portraits. There was also a one-way window overlooking the city, a bar, a fireplace, an enormous television, and of course, a bed.

"Uh … would it be okay if I used the bathroom really quickly?" Hermione asked, turning around to look for Kharon, only to find him by the bar, pouring out two drinks. Both of them obols.

He swirled his glass around, taking a slow sip whilst staring at her in  _that way_. The same way the young men had stared at her outside of the nightclub. Had she not known any better, she would have thought that he had taken her dress off with only his eyes.

"Go ahead. The other hallway … first door on your right."

Hermione nodded to him, racing out of there at once and into the corridor. The moaning from the other room filled her eyes as she sped past. Without stopping, she charged into the other corridor and yanked at the first door on the right, relief bursting through her chest as she raced inside and rapidly pressed the door closed with her back against it.

The quiet  _click_  of the lock soon filled the silence, and without second thought, she turned the tap on, creating enough background noise for what she was about to do next.

"Hey … I'm alone now. Why haven't you been saying anything?" the witch asked, brushing the earpiece with her fingertips. "Kharon's waiting for me in his sex dungeon. What should I do?"

Waiting ten long seconds for a response, she lowered the water pressure, fearing he couldn't hear her through it.

"Can you hear me?"

Again she waited, and again she was left with nothing, not a word from her partner. Just silence. Cold, hard, deafening silence.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest, Hermione lifted the skirt of her dress, yanking her wand out from the holster along her thigh, and with it, she tried to send the signal. She had spent about an hour and a half at the nightclub, meaning it was nearly time to leave. There was a good chance that the earpiece had malfunctioned, and that Draco was out there, waiting to hear from her.

She balanced her wand in the palm of her left hand, closing her eyes and concentrating.

Slowly the sinking feeling in her chest went away, and she imagined Draco. Not Jason.  _Draco_. In all his pureblood glory. The two or three times she had given him the signal in the past, the image of his face had been enough to make her wand — and subsequently his — grow hot, but this time she felt nothing.

Holding on for a solid minute, she eventually opened her eyes, staring down at her wand as if she barely recognized it.

"What's happening?" the witch uttered out loud, growing tense. "Why isn't it working?"

She closed her eyes and clasped her fingers around her wand this time, hoping it would make the difference she needed, but it didn't. She felt no warmth. In fact she felt nothing at all, not a single ounce of magical energy. For the first time since she had stepped foot into  _Ollivander's_  and come upon this wand as a young girl … she felt nothing.

Something wasn't right.

_Focus._

_Focus, Hermione._

_You have to focus._

Setting aside the rush of fear in her chest, Hermione got her phone out and hit the home button, a slew of text messages and missed calls filling the screen within seconds.

_From: Jason Grey_

_What happened?_

_I can't hear you anymore._

_From: Jason Grey_

_The sound cut out when you entered VIP._

_From: Jason Grey_

_I know it's not the earpiece._

_George Weasley said they've never malfunctioned._

_What's going on over there?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_We have twenty minutes left._

_If you can hear me or if you see these messages, please say something._

_From: Jason Grey_

_Fuck protocol._

_If you're not here by midnight, I'm going in._

Hermione read the messages five times over, quickly realizing there was more at play within the walls of  _Afterlife_  than she had originally thought. So far she had met three of them. Ian from VIP. Aaron the bartender. Kharon the owner. All three of them had left their mark on her in some way. Ian with the stamp, Aaron with the drinks, and Kharon with the … well, the creepiness.

Slowly trying to calm her nerves, Hermione shoved both her phone and her wand back inside her clutch and turned the tap off, popping her head into the corridor after to make sure it was clear.

To her relief, Kharon was nowhere to be found.

_He's still waiting for me in the other room._

As quietly as possible she slipped out of the bathroom and straight to the large, double doors that she had entered through earlier. The moment her fingers grazed the handle, she heard one of the other doors open and then close, followed by a pair of footsteps.

_It's him!_

Without the time to waste, Hermione opened the doors and ducked out before he saw her. Down the spiral staircase, past the bouncers and out of VIP. It was only when her heels touched the wet, glistening sidewalk outside of  _Afterlife_ , that she released the breath she'd held in, running toward Waterfront Station as if her life depended on it.

In a matter of minutes she made it, darting a look around the area only to find Draco's car parked about a block away. He noticed her immediately, jumping out of the drivers seat and meeting her on the sidewalk as she raced towards the car.

"What in Merlin's name happened in there?" Draco demanded the second she got there, the usual mix of contempt and mockery in his tone, gone. In fact he sounded rather worried. "Granger —"

" _Don't_  call me that," she snapped, her cheeks flushed from running, and her eyes brimming with panic. "We need to leave.  _Now_."

"First just tell me what hap —"

"For Merlin's sake, get in the fucking car!"

Momentarily frozen, Draco slowly but surely did as his partner had demanded, climbing into drivers seat, and pulling his car away from the curb, onto the main road and towards the bridge before daring to even look at her.

Inside, her heart was still racing.

She'd no idea what happened, how to explain it. All she knew was that her magic had been taken from her, however briefly, and that she had never in her life felt more helpless or afraid. That was including the time that she had found herself petrified in her second year, that was including the time that Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her at Malfoy Manor, and that was including the time that she and her friends had nearly died, trying to defeat the darkest wizard ever to have lived.

All those times, she had still hoped,  _believed_  that she could pull through. And she had. Every last time. But that was only because she'd had magic to fall back on. She'd had her wand, her endless hours of reading and memorization. All sorts of history and spells and incantations and potions.

This time was different.

This time she'd had had only her Muggle instincts, and she'd realized very quickly that she had neglected to nurture those instincts, to build on them and to make sure they were just as strong, if not stronger than her magic.

She thought about that the entire drive home, pulling herself out of those thoughts as they arrived home.

Draco pulled the car into the driveway, turning it off and then looking to her, the soft glow of the outdoor lights reflected in his eyes as he waited for her to say something.

"It's more," Hermione uttered, speaking the first and only words that came to mind. "It-it's much more than we thought."

There was a brief pause wherein Draco said nothing, the tiny flecks of silver in his eyes, shining through the brownish hazel contacts that he had gone, as per his Jason Grey disguise.

"Hermione, what happened to you back there?" Draco asked, having addressed her by her given name just once in the many years they'd known each other.

It was after his family had been pardoned for their war crimes. Without telling anyone, including her friends, Hermione had vouched for him to the Wizengamot, after which he'd sought her out and dropped to his knees in front of her as if she'd saved his life.

In many ways, she supposed she had.

She closed her eyes, trying to keep calm as she explained it to him. "I don't know for certain, but I-I have reason to believe they're either part of, or working with The Collective, and that they've developed some sort of … device or … or substance … to combat … to combat magic."

Slowly, it began to rain, tiny droplets pitter pattering along the roof of the car and the windshield, streaming down the glass as they sat there in silence.

"That's why the earpiece stopped working," Draco gathered, his voice distant, but the look in his eyes rigid.

Hermione nodded. "My magic is back now. I can feel it. B-but there was moment in VIP where it just …  _it was gone_ ," she disclosed. "Not just the earpiece. My wand as well. I touched it and I … I felt nothing."

The fear in her voice was as plain as day.

"You're right," Draco said to her, simply. "This is much bigger than we thought."

"What do you suppose Kingsley would have us do?" she questioned.

Pushing his hair back, he shrugged, at a complete and utter loss. "We'll just have to keep at it … find out as much as we can and report back once we know exactly what we're up against."

The witch breathed out, nodding once before facing him. "You said you were going to speak with that boy … the one who was assaulted," she carried on. "Did you?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. According to his social media, he's visiting his parents in London for the time being. He won't be back for another week."

"Well, that leaves just one person then."

"The old bartender," he presumed, receiving a look of confirmation.

Collecting her breath, Hermione kept quiet for a moment, piecing it together in her mind. "We'll find him, keep an eye on Kharon and the others, and carry on as normal. For all we know, they're watching us."

Draco nodded in approval, absorbing her words as they unbuckled their seatbelts, and proceeded to the front door.

As the wizard was fetching the keys from his coat pocket, Hermione glanced to the left, at one of the neighbouring houses. The lights were on in the living room and there was music and laughter pouring out, distantly muffled by the sound of the rain.

For a split second she could have sworn she saw someone through one of the upstairs windows, a tall, shadowy silhouette angled directly towards her, staring. By the time she blinked it was gone, replaced by the shape and shadow of a swaying tree branch.

"You coming?" Draco interjected, holding the door open, following her line of sight.

She snapped out of it immediately, nodding to her undercover husband in thanks on the way in.

With a muted  _click_ , he closed and locked the door behind them, securing it with magic as well, as they peeled off their outerwear and stepped out of their shoes.

"Granger …" he began, just as she was about to walk away.

She glanced back at him, lifting her eyebrows questioningly. "Yes?"

He peeled his lips apart as if to say something, the words clinging to the back of his throat, quite anxiously. "N-nothing," he eventually decided, tilting his head down as he brushed past her. "I'll see you in the morning."

Chest hitching inside her dress, Hermione stood there in silence, confused as the sound of Draco's footsteps had gradually vanished behind a closed door.

_Focus._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Stretching her mouth into a yawn, Hermione popped her head up from the makeshift bed that she had created on the couch the previous night. As per usual, her pyjamas were askew, her back was knotted in places she'd no idea even existed, and her long, brown hair was tangled up in a messy bun atop her head.

In other words, she both felt and looked like shit.

"Morning," Draco chimed in, drinking from his favourite coffee mug, newspaper in hand.

Hermione glared at him, still half asleep as she forcibly sat up. "And why are you so chipper?"

"Well, I happened to have slept on a big, comfortable bed last night. What about you?" he asked, fixing his lips into a smug-ass grin that she'd have paid her entire Gringotts vault to wipe off. "If you're not going into work today, be a good wife and do the washing. We're running out of clean dishes."

"Oh, just go  _away_  already …" she groaned, flopping back down on the couch. "I've a headache."

Draco chuckled in response. "It's a hangover, Granger, not Dragon Pox. Get up, have a wash and an ibuprofen. You'll feel better in no time."

"How do you even  _know_  ibuprofen?"

"I've been living like this for five months. Of course I know ibuprofen."

"Do you know Google?"

"The search engine?" he snorted. "You'll have to try harder than that if you want to stump me."

Swinging upright at the sound of a challenge, Hermione narrowed her eyes, the same competitive glint in them that he remembered from school. "Call of Duty."

"First-person-shooter video game. Next one."

"Gone with the Wind."

"American Civil War-era novel by Margaret Mitchell, later adapted to film."

"Monopoly."

He frowned. "I teach business. Of course I know Mo —"

"The Beatles!" she interjected without the slightest pause.

"Er … er …" Blanking for a second, he jumped as the answer swiftly came to him. "English rock band!"

"Woody Allen!

"Renowned pedo —!"

They stopped, snapping their focus towards the front of the house as they heard a knock followed by the chime of the doorbell.

On instinct, Hermione wrapped the blanket that she had slept in around her body, despite the fact that she was fully clothed. "Who is it?" she hissed to Draco as he popped a discreet look through the window nearby, hoping to catch a glimpse. "It's nine o'clock, for Merlin's sake!"

"Actually it's eight," he corrected, nodding to the front after. "And your boyfriend's outside."

"Wh-what?" she blurted, thinking for a moment that the bloke from the Ministry had come to see her, only to realize as she got up. "Oh, you mean …"

"Neighbour boy."

She forcefully exhaled. "First of all, he has a girlfriend, like I said before. And she happens to be a lovely, beautiful person. Second —" Without another word, she stuck her tongue out at him as she walked past, unlocking the door in the seconds that followed.

Just as Draco had said, the young man from next-door was standing on their front step, breathing into his hands to keep warm on that mid-November morning.

"Eric!" Hermione greeted, smiling through her gnawing headache. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you as well," he said, his blue eyes brimming with delight. "Sorry if now's not a good time. I just thought I'd drop off some treats on my way to work this morning."

She looked to him in surprise as he handed her a pastry box. "Oh. What do we have here?"

"Just a little something from the party last night," he shrugged, as if it were nothing. "Gemma's a bit obsessed with baking at the moment, so I'll probably be dropping off more of these soon."

"How cute!" Hermione voiced, opening the pastry box to find two massive red velvet cupcakes, along with a note from Gemma saying she hoped they liked them, and phone numbers to keep in touch. "I wish I could bake like this! It's embarrassing how shit I am in the kitchen."

"Oh, no. I'm sure you're g —" Eric suddenly stopped, glancing over Hermione's shoulder as her undercover husband approached.

She popped a look at the wizard, her eyes widening just a bit as he slid an arm around her waist, quite a bit warmer than she had imagined.

"Jason Grey," Draco said, extending his other hand to Eric.

There was a dash of surprise in the neighbour's eyes, but he quickly blinked it away, accepting the handshake. "Good to meet you. I'm Eric."

"Oh, yes, I know. My lovely wife has told me all about you."

Hermione glanced back at Draco as if to ask what he was playing at. Naturally, the git avoided her questioning looks, and instead focused on their neighbour, creating a long, seemingly endless pause in their introduction.

"I-I've been meaning to ask how you like that Tesla," Eric inserted, if only to break the silence.

"S'fine," he shrugged.

"Just fine?"

"It's eight o'clock in the morning, mate. You're not going to get any smalltalk out of me if that's what you were expecting."

" _Jason_ ," Hermione softly admonished, offering a look of apology to Eric after. "Sorry. He's a bit hungover from date night."

"Oh, that's okay," the neighbour said to her. "It is early. I just … Gemma made extra cupcakes last night thinking you might show up, and I felt bad just letting them sit there, so …"

"You really don't have to explain," she reassured him, shoving the pastry box at Draco after. "Be a dear and pop these in the kitchen, Jason.  _Now_."

Finally meeting eyes with her, Draco grabbed hold of the box, the slightest hint of amusement on his face as he walked off.

Hermione breathed in, facing Eric again. "So sorry about that. He … he can be quite difficult."

"Honestly, there's no need to apologize," he said as if he actually meant it. "I may not be married to Gemma yet, but I'm fully aware of what it's like to be in a long-term relationship. Most times it's great, and other times … not so much."

She couldn't help but agree. "Absolutely."

There was a brief pause after wherein Eric slid his hands into his pockets and glanced down, as if meaning to say something else, but wondering if he should.

"I, uh … I should probably get to work now, but if you ever need someone to talk to, Caroline … know that I'm around," he added, in no particular way.

Something inside her gently squeezed at the sound of that, and without a word, she nodded.

Once he had left, and once she had closed and locked the door, she went straight for the kitchen and folded her arms across her chest.

Still sipping on his coffee, Draco smirked, eyes on his phone. "What is it now, dear?"

"You do realize Eric thinks our marriage is in shambles, don't you?"

"Well, to be fair, I  _was_  cheating on you."

She frowned, unimpressed. "I'm serious, Draco. You can't be rude to people for fun. It's not … well, it's not very pleasant, is it?"

He glanced to her, lazily. "Granger, relax. He's a bloke. I'm sure he's forgotten already."

"Oh. So, now we're implying that he'd have held onto it if he were a woman, are we?"

"For Merlin's sake …" Draco groaned, tilting his head back, frustratedly. "What would you have me do? I can't go back and apologize to the git, now can I?"

"No, but you can invite him and Gemma to dinner tonight."

"Sorry,  _what_?" he snapped.

Hermione stood her ground, firmly. "Dinner," she repeated. "I've not had a proper evening for as long as we've been here. Eric and Gemma seem perfectly nice  _and_  they've given us cupcakes. The least we could do is have them over."

"Granger, you're aware that we're in the middle of a mission, aren't you? We don't have time for dinner with the neighbours," Draco protested, looking at her as though she'd gone mad. "Why do you think I've broken it off with Anna?"

"Because you're bored?" the witch shrugged. "I don't bloody care. The point is … we've got to keep up appearances. That includes behaving like an actual married couple. We can't be sneaking about acting suspicious all the time, now can we?"

Sighing loudly, he eventually nodded. "Yeah, fair enough. But I'm not doing any cooking."

"That's okay. I'll do it."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Of course I'm serious," she said, calmly making her way to the pen and notepad they had laying around, jotting down some ingredients and things. "We'll have a proper Sunday roast. My dad's recipe."

"It's Friday."

"Okay, a  _Friday_  roast then. What does it matter?"

"Granger, you said yourself that you're shit in the kitchen."

She waved it off. "That was just banter."

Draco folded his arms, a knowing glint in his eyes as he looked to her. "You're up to something, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Hermione offered, making her way to the bathroom after. "Gemma's left their numbers on a note in the pastry box. Give one of them a text, will you? Ask if they're available."

He groaned at the thought. "If I absolutely have to …"

"You do …" she called out, closing the bathroom door, and thus ending the discussion a moment later.

Draco sighed, reluctantly doing as he was told before he left for work.

**_Later That Night_ **

"It's a disaster," Hermione uttered, staring down at the roast, at a complete and utter loss. "It's an absolute fucking disaster."

Popping his head around for a look, Draco clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

"What in  _Merlin's_  name are we going to do?" she asked in a panic. "They'll be here any second!"

"Well, I don't want to say I told you so, but …"

"Honestly, Draco, now's not the time for your sh —"

They glanced to the front of the house, again, the chime of the doorbell interrupting them as they stood in the dining room — red wine, limp vegetables, roasted potatoes that had somehow come out watery, store-bought dessert, and a charred, inedible chunk of meat laid out on the table.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Hermione shouted, bouncing all over the place, trying to rearrange things even though the dinner she'd prepared was a disaster anyway.

Draco calmly went to answer the door, the echo of footsteps and chatter trailing in as his pretend wife froze up.

Back when she'd been dating Ron, he'd done most of the cooking, having only trusted her with a side dish or two, maybe dessert. They'd hosted many a dinner party in that time, and she'd never once attempted a roast. Ron and her father had always made it look so easy. But she had clearly taken after her mother in that regard.

"You coming?" Draco asked, hovering at the doorway.

Hermione hesitated, breathing catching in her throat as she glanced to the burnt roast, and then to the direction of the living room from where their guests voices were echoing out. "I-I—"

"Granger, relax. I'll fix it," the wizard laughed, as if he'd intended to do so from the start. "You go on. Chat to them about the weather or something. I'll handle the rest."

"Y-you'll fix it?" she repeated. "But I thought you said you weren't going to do any cooking."

Draco sighed, taking her gently by the shoulders and turning her towards the doorway. "Go on," he said again. "Before I change my mind."

Hermione glanced back at him hesitantly, hugging the wine glasses and the bottle of Bordeaux to her chest as he handed them off to her. "B-but how are you going to —"

"Granger,  _go_  …"

Bottom lip twitching with uncertainty, the brunette reluctantly left him to it, proceeding into the living room where she was met with both Eric and Gemma, and also their dog, strangely enough.

"Caroline, it's so good to see you again!" Gemma exclaimed, rising from the couch to give her a hug. " _Beautiful_  house by the way."

Hermione chuckled, accepting the hug. "Thanks so much. And I have to say, those cupcakes are just the cutest. I'll have to give them a taste after dinner tonight."

"What are we having?" Eric asked, excitedly.

"Oh, erm … just a little roast. Nothing special," she blurted, swiftly changing the subject as the dog, a Jack Russell Terrier of some sort, came over to her, calmly. "And who do we have here?"

"That's Sparky," Gemma introduced, looking to him adoringly. "He wandered onto our property the week we moved in. No collar, no missing dog posters for him anywhere. We've informed the shelter near her that we have him in case his owner's come looking. But for now he's ours, aren't you, little guy?"

"Gem, you forgot the punchline," Eric whispered to her, urgently.

"Oh, right!" she remembered. "The spark was  _instant_."

Hermione clapped a hand over her heart at that, taken by the story. "I might cry."

The three of them chuckled together afterward, catching Draco's attention as he came wandering in, dish towel over his shoulder, and his hair lightly tousled as if he'd run his fingers through it a moment ago.

"Dinner's ready," he announced, nodding for them to follow.

**_Five Minutes Later_ **

Hermione stared down at her plate, dumbfounded.

"This is delicious," Gemma chimed in, sliding a small piece of food into her mouth, delicately. "I would love the recipe."

Eric glanced to his wife, unperturbed if not for the twitch of his bottom lip. "Don't be silly, Gem. I'm sure the magician doesn't want to reveal his secrets."

"Oh, I can't take credit for this," Draco explained. "It's Caroline's father's recipe. Isn't it, dear?"

The three of them glanced to Hermione at the same time. Quickly snapping out of it, she nodded, smiling to Gemma. "I'll, erm … I'll text it to you later."

"Perfect," the blonde beamed, shooting a smug look at her boyfriend from across the table.

There was a bit of silence afterward, the soft clink of cutlery and dishes filling in the gaps as they ate.

 _Magic,_ Hermione decided, examining the beautifully cooked potatoes.  _There's absolutely no way he did all of this on his own in under ten minutes._

Whilst she was doing that, Draco was staring down at his phone under the table, a look of unease in his eyes as the device began glowing and vibrating out of control.

"Erm … I think I should probably take this," he finally said, hurriedly getting up and wiping his lips with the napkin. "So sorry, everyone. I won't be a moment."

Hermione glanced to him as if she had only just taken notice of his existence. "So," she rung in, if only to say  _something_. "Has Sparky had dinner yet?"

"Oh, yes. We fed him before we left the house," Gemma reassured her, glancing around the table to find their dog sitting quietly near the doorway. "I hope you don't mind that we brought him."

"Not at all. I love animals," the brunette said to her, making goofy faces at the dog after which he simply lowered his head. "Oh. He's quite well-behaved, isn't he?"

"I'm sure he's just tired from the hike that Gem took him on earlier," Eric said, bouncing another one of those loaded looks at his girlfriend. "We should have left him at home with Wigs."

"You  _know_  he and Wigs don't get along," Gemma retorted, practically slamming her fork down.

"Yes, and whose fault is that?"

"Sparky needs my love right now, Eric. You know that. His previous owners aren't even looking for him, the poor thing."

"Right and when Wigs runs away from us, I'm sure you'll be a mess … on social media like with everything else," Eric said under his breath, receiving an open-mouthed look of shock from his girlfriend.

Sensing a bit of tension between the couple, Hermione grabbed the bottle of Bordeaux they'd left open, and forced her lips into a smile that she hoped looked human. "Who's up for a refill?"

They glanced to the witch as if having forgotten she was there.

"Excuse me," Gemma uttered, backing away from the table. "I-I have to use the bathroom."

"Oh, er …" Hermione stood up to show her the way. "First door on the … the right …" she said, her voice trailing off as the blonde vanished into the corridor without a word.

There was a beat of silence afterward, during which time Hermione glanced to Eric.

He sighed deeply. "Sorry you had to witness that."

"Honestly, you've nothing to apologize fo —"

"We had a big argument tonight before we came here," he interjected, running his hands through his hair. "She wanted to bring Sparky. I wanted to leave him at home so he could get used to our other dog, Wigs. As you can see, Gem got her way. She always does. Just like with the cupcakes this morning."

"The cupcakes?" Hermione asked.

Eric nodded. "She insisted that I deliver them first thing in the morning," he explained. "I mean I love the girl, but … sometimes her impulses gets the best of her, you know? She can't even keep a job."

The witch fell silent, lifting an inquiring eyebrow at her neighbour.

"Sorry," he then apologized, realizing what he'd said and how inappropriate it was to mention. "I don't know what's gotten into me tonight. Gem and I were fine at the chip shop yesterday … and then … why am I telling you this? Sorry, I'll stop."

"You might want to save those apologies for your girlfriend," Hermione suggested, lightly.

Nodding his head, Eric got up. "I'll go check on her."

With nothing else to do now but drink, Hermione topped off her wine glass and knocked it back, alone.

* * *

Draco paced the driveway, the mid-November winds turning his cheeks numb as he waited, in a bit of a state. To his relief, the others hadn't come looking for him just yet. He figured they were all at the table, chatting away about  _Game of Thrones_ or the latest iOS update, like a bunch of old friends.

On the other hand, he was outside, hoping to Merlin that he could stop his barista from creating a scene the way she had said she was going to in the hundred or so angry texts she had sent him a moment ago.

Within seconds, a dark blue Kia pulled up to the curb of his house, and there she was. He'd half a mind to ask how she'd found his address, but he somehow resisted the urge.

"Anna …" he said, racing over to her. "Stop, stop. You can't go in there. It's nine o'clock at night and we've guests over. Please, Anna."

"Get off!" she shouted, yanking her arm away as he attempted to grab it, however gently.

Cutting in front of her now, Draco blocked the door. "Stop. Anna, stop! My wife is —"

"Your wife deserves to know the truth!"

"She does," he said, losing his train of thought as the barista blinked up at him, mouth agape. "I … she … I've already told her."

Anna stepped back, looking to him as if he had spoken a different language just now. "Y-you told her? And she hasn't kicked your ass out?"

"No," Draco said. "Not yet anyway. We're working through it."

"How do I know you're not just saying this to get me to go away?" she questioned.

He sighed. "It's not that, Anna. It's just … now's not a good time."

"Why, because you have friends over?" the barista snorted. "Do  _they_  know that you were fucking me behind your wife's back?"

"No, they don't. It's none of their business, is it?"

"Well, I'm going to make it their business," she decided, nudging past Draco and grabbing at the doorknob.

"Anna, no!" he shouted again, slamming the door closed just as she'd opened it, the impact of it creating a loud tremor in and around the house. "Oh, for fuck —!" Stopping himself before nay of the other neighbours caught wind, Draco gently took Anna by the hand and directed her to the side of the house where it was more private.

She glared at him as they stopped. "There's nothing you can say that will change my mind."

"Why are you here?" he asked, quite simply.

Opening her mouth to give him an earful, the barista was cut off before she could say anything.

"No, listen to me …" Draco interjected. "I know you don't actually have feelings for me, so why are you here and not with your boyfriend?"

"We broke up, remember? Or did you already forget the conversation that we had earlier?" Anna asked, folding her arms.

"You said you loved him. What happened to that?"

Her chest hitched. "I-I — that's none of your business."

"No, Anna. It is my business. You're making it my business by coming to my house like this."

"Why do you even care why he broke up with me?" she demanded.

"Wait, wait. I thought you broke up with him. Isn't that what you told me?" Draco asked.

The barista tensed up a bit. "Yeah, well, I lied to you before. Big fucking deal."

"Anna …"

"What? Don't  _Anna_  me," she snapped, turning away as the tears started flowing. "My boyfriend found out about us and … and he left me. Happy?"

Draco rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, looking to her after. "I'm sure if you apologize, he'll take you back. You're a great girl, Anna. I mean that."

"It's not that easy with him."

"He's a bloke. And you're fun and beautiful. I'm sure it'll be easier than you think."

"No, I'm serious …" she said, facing Draco. "The whole reason I even cheated was because … I shouldn't even be saying this right now but … he's gotten himself involved in some serious shit. And I was scared, so I tried to distract myself with you."

Something in Draco's expression changed. He blinked his eyes slightly wider, waves of concern in them. "Scared? He didn't — he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, no. It wasn't like that," she said, glancing to either side before she murmured the rest. "His new friends. They're the scary ones. Not him."

"Anna, you have to be more specific. I can't help you if I've no idea what you're talking about."

Sighing, she chewed her bottom lip in thought before telling him the rest. "D-did you hear about the guy that was beat up outside of  _Afterlife_  last month?"

Draco's stomach lurched. "Yes, I have heard about that. Why?"

"Well … my boyfriend was one of the guys who did it. He was forced into it by his new friends. I know it," she said, confidently. "There's no way he'd have  _touched_  that guy unless something was at risk. Maybe his job or … or some other shit."

"Hold on, hold on …" the wizard said, face screwing. "Your boyfriend doesn't happen to work at  _Afterlife_ , does he?"

Anna nodded, scrunching her lips into a frown after. "He's a bouncer there. Or at least he used to be. Now he's one of Kharon's lap dogs."

Rubbing his eyes again, this time Draco felt wide awake. "When exactly did your boyfriend find out about me?"

"Uh … just a couple of days ago. He found our texts on my phone and … well, I wasn't going to tell you this, but … he actually followed you," she confessed, quietly. "On the train."

The wizard squeezed his eyes shut, unable to decide whether he felt more relieved or annoyed. "I can't believe this."

"Oh, don't be such a pussy," she teased. "He wasn't going to hurt you. He just wanted to size you up a bit."

Frowning at her, Draco eventually relaxed. "Well, whatever it is that he's involved in, Anna, I'm sure it's for the best that you're broken up. He's probably trying to protect you."

She rolled her eyes at that. "I don't  _need_  protection, though. You know I don't like it."

"Anna."

"Sorry. Couldn't resist," she smirked, slowly glancing off to the side after. "So, I guess I should probably go then. Before your wife comes out with a butcher knife."

Draco snorted at the thought. "There's no chance of that. Believe me."

"She sounds like a real ride or die," Anna offered. "Most guys would hold on to a girl like that."

He nodded in agreement, for quite a bit longer than he had intended. "She's … she's something, that's for certain. Bit scatterbrained at times, and surprisingly not a morning person, but … also smart, levelheaded when it counts, and … compassionate even when she shouldn't be."

"Like with you," the barista gathered.

"Like with me," he repeated, thinking back years ago to when he'd been pardoned after the war.

The shock and the realization of what Hermione had done for him still lingered in the back of his mind. All these years later and he still couldn't believe that she had done something like that for someone so underserving.

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he took a deep breath and then reached over to Anna, giving her a light but warm hug before she left, presumably for the last time.

"Sorry for going all  _Fatal Attractio_ n on you," she apologized, a tickle of laughter behind her lips.

Draco snorted. "That's okay. I think we can both agree I could have handled things differently … better … for everyone involved," he told her, slowly walking to her to car.

Unlocking it and opening the door, Anna turned around and looked to him without a word, taking a deep breath before she climbed inside, the low rumble of the engine echoing through the empty street.

Watching as she drove off, Draco exhaled, quietly making his way back to the house once he was sure that he was ready.

**_Five Minutes Earlier_ **

Hermione glanced up from the table, feeling a bit tipsy now from all the wine she'd inhaled. "Oh … you're back," she said, looking to Eric and Gemma as they returned from their  _talk_. "I've just been here … minding my own business."

Righting her skirt, Gemma put on a smile, cheeks aglow. "Jason's still not back from his call?"

"Fuck knows where he is," the brunette said with a shrug.

The couple exchanged a look, after which they sat back down at the table and carried on eating.

"So, Caroline … Eric tells me you own a bookshop in the city," Gemma began.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I do. It's quite shit."

"Oh. Well, if you're looking for someone to help around, I'd be happy to."

"Do you think I need help?"

Gemma faltered, glancing to Eric, and then back to her. "Uh, it's not that you need it, I just … well, I kind of need it," she confessed. "Times are tough."

There was a twitch of guilt in Hermione's chest. She set her wine down delicately, as if to render herself sober, tucking hair behind her ears after. "To be honest the shop hasn't seen much business since I've opened … but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks. I know it's kind of weird of me to ask considering we barely know each other. I just … you have a really good vibe. Where I'm from, that's hard to find," Gemma explained, lightly.

Hermione reflected the same sentiment in her eyes and opened her mouth to say as much before she was interrupted with a loud  _thud_  on the other side of the house. The three of them jumped in their seats, followed by barking.

"Er … you two enjoy dinner. I'll go check on Jason," she decided, leaving the table in a hurry.

Popping a look inside every room on the first floor, there was no sight of Draco anywhere. She'd have heard him if he'd gone up, meaning he had to have gone outside. Quickly glancing through the window, she saw nothing. No sign of him anywhere. There was, however, an unfamiliar car parked along the curb of the house. A Kia. To her knowledge, Eric and Gemma had a Civic and a Charger, respectively. Not that they'd have driven to the neighbouring house anyway.

With a twist of discomfort in her gut, Hermione backed away from the window, nearly tripping over Sparky as he came racing over.

"Merlin's tits," she breathed, waiting for the residual shock to taper away before she knelt down to pet him.

Unlike before, he was quite playful.

"You're just the cutest, aren't you?" Hermione smiled, rubbing his belly as he rolled over for her. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she leaned closer to Sparky, whispering her next words. "My ex-boyfriend's patronus is a Jack Russell Terrier, you know?"

Utterly oblivious, Sparky continued playing with her, rolling and running about.

"I probably shouldn't say this in front of you since they're your parents, but I'm quite certain that Eric and Gemma were having sex in the bathroom earlier," she furthered, trying not to laugh. "Is it bad that I'm a bit jealous? Everyone in this house has been having sex apart from me."

Sparky stuck his tongue out, cooling off and seemingly listening to her even though she knew he couldn't understand a word she was saying.

"It's not all about sex, but I mean … I'd just like to have a bit of fun for once, you know? That's what I was hoping for tonight with this dinner party. But as you can see, it's not quite how I had hoped," Hermione admitted, sighing after. "The only person I have here is Draco. How upsetting is that? Most days we barely look at each other, let alone …" She shuddered. "Anyway, I should probably find out where he's gone before he ends up in a ditch somewhere."

Reluctantly parting with her new friend, Hermione rose to her feet.

She noticed just then that Draco's shoes and coat were gone, confirming to her that he'd gone out … except his car was still in the driveway. Face screwing with confusion, she wrapped her light blue cardigan tightly around her torso and opened the door, stepping out into the cold just long enough that she heard two voices.

One male and one female.

At first she thought they were having an argument, but as she followed the sound, all the way to the side of the house, she came to find out that she was completely wrong.

They were embracing, rather intimately by the look of it, and she recognized both of them.

The woman was called Anna and she worked in a Starbucks near the university. And the man …tall and dark-haired, and bundled up in the coat that Hermione had bought for him … was Draco.

Ignoring the tug in her chest, Hermione scurried back inside as they came towards her, hurriedly closing the door and backing away from it as the glow of headlights faded off into the distance. Why he'd felt the need to lie to her about Anna, she'd no idea. In that moment, her only concern was dinner, and whether she had room for another glass of wine.

**_Two Hours Later_ **

Once dinner was finally finished, the four of them had settled into the living room for a drink and some conversation. Unlike the first hour, the hours after had went quite smoothly. Sparky was on the floor, curled up by Hermione's feet whilst she listened closely to the stories Gemma and Eric had told of their many travels. They had grown up and met in New York, but they had also lived traveled together in places like Melbourne, Seoul and Oahu.

Eric was a software engineer whilst Gemma was a photographer. In the past, she had worked as a paralegal in New York, but she had since changed direction in her life. Quite a few times by the sounds of it.

Standing by the fireplace on his own, nursing the same glass of wine he'd poured himself over an hour ago, Draco had mostly kept quiet, discreetly glancing over at Hermione now and again.

She ignored his looks, instead focusing on their guests.

"Hey … I didn't notice before," Eric suddenly said, nodding to Hermione's hand. "Is that a tattoo you have there?"

Glancing down, Hermione felt her throat clench. The stamp from  _Afterlife_. Somehow, the stupid thing had survived the shower and the washing she'd done earlier. "Shit … er …"

"We went dancing last night," Draco cut in, unexpectedly. "At one of the nightclubs in the city. I washed my stamp off earlier."

"Ooo, dancing!" Gemma chimed in, excitedly. "We should all go together someday."

Eric glanced at her, chuckling with embarrassment. "We both know I can't dance to save my life, Gem."

"Well, just us girls then," she decided, looking to Hermione hopefully.

The witch stared between all of them, opening and then closing her mouth it a few times before she settled with a nod. She wasn't particularly keen on going for a night out again, not after the hangover she'd woken up with that morning. But maybe spending time with Gemma wasn't such a bad idea.

She seemed nice enough.

As a matter of fact, they both did.

The night quickly drew to an end after that, empty wine glasses scattered about the living room as the four of them made their way to the front door, exchanging goodbyes and making plans for next time.

For a moment there, Hermione had lost herself in it, forgetting that she was undercover, and that, once the mission was over, she would never see these people again.

The thought of that had lingered in her mind for quite a long time after. She picked up the glasses and cleared the table and put the chairs back in their places, doing what little she could whilst waiting for the wine to wear off. In large part she'd spent most of the evening looking for signs that Eric and Gemma weren't who they said they were. That was the basis of the dinner. After all, she'd seen that strange shadow in their upstairs window the night before ... but that could have been anything, really.

To her relief, her neighbours were painfully normal.

And it was only as she made her way upstairs to change and to wash the stupid stamp off of her hand, that she bumped into Draco. He'd been cleaning up as well. For the most part, they'd avoided each other the way they did every night, but that night it felt different.

She nudged past him on her way to the master bathroom, rapidly turning the tap on and pumping soap into her hands before lathering them up. As she glanced up, into the mirror above the sink, she spotted him, hovering by the door with his hands in his pockets and a dumb look on his idiot face.

"I'll be done in a minute," Hermione grumbled.

Draco leaned away from the door, glancing down at her hands. "You're going to scrub your skin off if you continue like that."

"What are you …" Her words escaped her as she tilted her head down to find that the stamp was still there, only it was slightly risen now from how hard she'd been scrubbing. "Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Swiftly and without warning, she grabbed the glass soap dispenser and tossed it across the bathroom, creating a crackling sound as it hit the wall and broke apart into tiny pieces. "How am I ever going to get this stupid fucking thing off my ha —!"

"Wait! Granger, slow down before you hurt yourself!" Draco urged, holding her steady until she relaxed. "It's just a stamp, Granger. It'll wash off in a couple of days."

She backed away, quietly fixing her hair as though she hadn't just had a breakdown. "Yes. Well, I suppose I'll see you in the morning then."

Draco frowned at her, knowingly. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong? Why can't I just break soap dispensers if I feel like it?" Hermione inquired, as if she were genuinely curious, and not just trying to cover up the fact that something was clearly wrong.

He sighed. "Granger, whatever it is, it's going to come out at some point. It always does. Just tell me."

"Honestly I'm just  _tired_ ," she said, looking it as well. "While you were off gallivanting with your girlfriend,  _I_  was here entertaining our guests. So if you don't mind, I would very much like to go to bed now!"

Only then realizing that she'd seen him outside, with Anna, the wizard fell silent, standing there wordless as she walked past. "W-wait," he finally said, turning around. "Granger, wait …"

" _What_?" she snapped, nearly bumping into him again as she spun around all of a sudden.

"I-I can explain," he said to her, grabbing his phone out of his back pocket and showing her the messages he'd exchanged with Anna earlier, before they had their talk. "See? I was only trying to diffuse the situation. Nothing more."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, dully. "Do you honestly think I care?"

"There's a puddle of broken glass on the bathroom floor right as we speak," Draco stated, as if it were plainly obvious. "You care, Granger. I know you do."

She snorted, shaking her head as she stepped back. "No … no, fuck off," she uttered. "You're  _not_  going to put that on me. That's  _not_  how this conversation is going to go."

"How is it going to go then? Should I grab one of the empty wine bottles from downstairs so you can smash them, too?" he fired back. "Because I know this isn't about the fucking stamp."

"What's it about then? Enlighten me. I'd love to know," she said to him, throwing her hands up. "Clearly you know everything whilst I'm just over here smashing things about. Isn't that r —?"

"Wait. Granger, wait," the wizard suddenly cut in. "Y-your hand."

"For Merlin's sake. If you interrupt me one more time, Draco Malfoy, I'm going t —!"

Ignoring the witch, Draco swiftly came forward, taking hold of her left hand as she blinked up at him. "Your hand," he said again, quietly this time.

The words she'd meant to say were swept aside in that moment. She glanced down, following his line of vision to find that the skin on the back of her left hand had started to peel, but only around the stamp.

"It's like a … like a …"

"Like a burn," she whispered, finishing his thoughts. "I've been branded. They've branded me."

He swallowed the rush of feelings which had shot up the length his throat, looking her in the eyes, briefly. "That's why it hurt when Ian stamped you," he gathered. "There must be something in the … in the ink that reacts to magic or … or …"

"I'll cover it with makeup," Hermione decided, bringing her sleeves to the corners of her eyes a moment. "We-we've got to collect a sample of the ink and of an obol. See what's in them. I'll go tomorrow."

"Granger, don't be ridiculous."

"Well, you can't go, can you? They had you followed."

"About that …" he began, clearing the lump from his throat. "The bouncer they sent after me … he … well, they apparently they had nothing to do with it."

Hermione's face screwed. "What do you mean?"

"That was Anna's boyfriend."

"Her boyfriend?" the brunette repeated, lifting an eyebrow. "I'd no idea she had one."

"Well, she did. They've broken up now but … according to Anna, he found our texts and decided to follow me that night to see for himself."

"So, that means …"

" _Afterlife_  haven't caught onto us. Not quite."

"I'm sure they're a bit suspicious where Nora Winters is concerned, though."

Draco nodded. "I'll go tomorrow. Get the samples."

Chest clenching all of a sudden, Hermione had sunk deep into her thoughts, eventually nodding back. "I'll see if I can track down the old bartender … the one that leaked the story."

In the quiet after, once the conversation had ended, and once the undercurrents had settled, they parted ways, slowly but surely taking to their separate corners of the house, like always. And like always Hermione stayed awake a long time, first sweeping aside the broken shards of glass from the bathroom floor, and then staring up at the bedroom ceiling, thinking. About the bookshop, about home, the mission, the night she'd just had, and about everything in between.

It was only as her eyes began to close on their own that she stopped thinking, allowing the wheels to slow down, and the tightness in her chest to relax.

She'd never been more focused.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Hermione flipped through the menu, the quiet  _clink_  of door chimes creating a diversion as she bounced a look at one of the customers. A man. Tall, dark-haired and seemingly quite introverted. She'd spent the larger part of her morning in search of this man, clicking her way through various articles and social media profiles for hours until she'd found exactly what she needed.

To her relief,  _Afterlife_  had yet to update the list of staff members on their official website, otherwise she'd never have tracked him down.

The old bartender — the one who'd leaked the story.

Yash Gupta.

Identifying him within seconds, Hermione glanced back down at the menu, as to not alert her friend on the real reason she had invited her out to lunch at a hipster-infested diner on the other side of the city.

"You have no idea how bad I've been wanting to check this place out," Gemma chimed in, utterly oblivious. "One of my favourite food bloggers recommended it a few months ago. I nearly convinced Eric to come with me one time, but there's always so much traffic … he's never in the mood to drive all the way out here."

The brunette nodded along. "Yeah, Jason's not one for traffic either," she offered, darting looks across the diner, periodically.

"I've been meaning to ask. What's the deal with you two?"

"The deal?" Hermione repeated, in no particular way. "As in what brought us together?"

"No, no. As in the sex."

Her eyebrows flicked up. "Oh."

Gemma chuckled. "Sorry if that's too personal. It's just … the fire between you guys is out of control."

"It is?"

"Oh, absolutely," the neighbour girl nodded. "I mean he couldn't take his eyes off you last night, could he?"

Hermione blanked, quickly nodding thanks to their waitress as she came around with their drinks.

"I hope it's like that for me after I get married," Gemma went on to say. "Eric and I have a good enough sex life as it is, and we've been together for a long time, but they always say marriage changes things, don't they?"

"Erm … yes, I suppose they do," Hermione offered, stirring sugar into her tea.

"Did it change for you and Jason?"

"It … er … well, it did change at the … only briefly … but … er …" Her thoughts turned to mush. Not once in the past five months had she been forced to speak of their sex life. "It's good," she uttered after, face draining of colour. "It's … adequate."

There was a twitch of laughter along Gemma's lips as she sipped on her coffee. "You have actually  _had_  sex with him before, haven't you?"

"Of course," Hermione said back, a little too quickly. "We have sex all the time. Loads of it. In all the ways."

"Oh, like anal?"

"Er … no."

"Roleplay?"

"Not that one either …"

Gemma narrowed her eyes, the answer coming to her quickly afterward. "Oh, I'm such an idiot — bondage!" she realized, in the loudest possible way.

The twenty-something's around them glanced over, bringing a flush of red to Hermione's cheeks. She was by no means a prude, but she had never thought of Malfoy in a sexual way, and she'd no desire to start.

"Yeah, that's the one," she nodded, drowning her discomfort in tea.

"I am  _so_  jealous," Gemma sighed. "I've tried to get Eric into those sorts of things, but he's so … traditional sometimes, you know? I mean I can't really blame him considering the life he's had, but …"

There was a curious flicker in Hermione's eyes. "What sort of life has he had? If you don't mind my asking, of course."

Her neighbour let out a deep breath. "Let's just say he hasn't said a word to his parents in like ten years."

"Oh. Were they quite … aggressive?"

"No, it wasn't anything like that. They were just neglectful towards him," she explained. "He was in therapy all throughout his childhood years, and then when he was old enough, they sent him off to some boarding school in Massachusetts where he basically never heard from them and didn't fit in."

Hermione choked on her tea. "S-sorry, did you say a boarding school in Massachusetts?"

"Yeah, do you know the place?"

"Erm … no, I just … I've always been curious about boarding schools on this side of the world," she clarified, quite clearly stringing her words together as she went along. "You wouldn't happen to know what Eric's school was called, would you?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't. He doesn't really like talking about it. I-I probably shouldn't have even said anything to begin with …"

Ignoring the twitch of guilt in her stomach, Hermione looked to the woman, reassuringly. "Don't worry. This stays between us," she said. "We're friends, right?"

Gemma nodded in response, fixing her lips into a smile. "Right."

In the seconds that followed, the waitress came around again to take their orders. Both of them opted for waffles even though it was lunch, and once that was done, Gemma popped out for a moment to answer a work-related call. She'd been dropping off job applications everywhere around the city in search of something. Photography was her true passion, but the equipment was expensive, and she refused to let Eric pay for any of it.

Alone at the table now, Hermione wheeled a look around the diner, spotting her target by the jukebox machine on the far right corner.

With a quick look through the window to make sure Gemma was still on the phone, the brunette rose from her seat, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt as she carefully made her way to the jukebox machine.

Her target glanced back at her as she approached, unperturbed if not for the twitch along his throat.

"Oasis," Hermione noted, referring to the band he'd selected. "Good choice."

The ambient rhythm of chatter and cutlery was soon met with music, filling in the long gap of silence that followed Hermione's entrance.

Looking to her as if she'd spoken to him in a different language, the bartender nodded and turned back around, in a way that indicated he was in no mood to chat.

Hermione scrunched her lips to the side, uncertain as to how she was going to do this, and why she hadn't given it more thought before coming up to him. In films they made it look so easy.

Girl approaches guy.

Girl twirls her hair around her finger and magically extracts information from guy.

Feeling slightly stupid now, Hermione hesitantly glanced back at her table, as if to return. She knew she was only going to make it more awkward by just walking off after, but she'd no idea what else to do. In her experience, most Canadians loved to chat. Like Aaron from the other night.

But this man was different.

In more ways than one, it seemed.

It was only as she turned to leave, that he broke the silence.

"It's rude to stare at people," the bartender said to her, unexpectedly.

Her stomach lurched, lips twitching apart. "Wh-what? I-I wasn't —"

"Save it," he interjected, looking back at her. "I know who you work for. Whatever shit he asked you to do, tell him to shove up his ass before I file a restraining order."

She tensed, suddenly realizing. "Sorry, I-I think you're mistaken …"

"Mistaken how? You've been staring at me on and off for the past twenty minutes. Either you're working for him or you're fucking him. Take your pick," he said to her, quite firmly at that.

"I don't suppose there's a third option?" she inquired, softening her voice just a touch.

The rigidity in his dark brown eyes gave away a little. "Y-you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Not a clue," Hermione lied. "Sorry for staring by the way. I just — I'm not sure what came over me. I-I'll go."

Pressing her lips together to keep from smiling, she felt a tiny burst of victory in her gut as the bartender called out to her.

"W-wait —"

She glanced back at him, lifting her eyebrow, curiously. "Is something the matter?"

"No, I just … I want to apologize for what I said," he explained, as if he actually meant it.

"That's okay. We're all under some sort stress, I imagine."

"You're right about that," he practically laughed. "In any case, I'm sorry. Did you want to use to jukebox?"

Bouncing a quick look at her table to find that Gemma had returned, Hermione shook her head. "It's all yours," she voiced, smiling briefly at him before turning around and walking away.

All the while she felt his gaze follow her, taking note of every detail.

"Who was that?" Gemma asked, wiggling her eyebrows at the brunette.

Hermione snorted. "Just a random guy."

"A  _cute_ , random guy."

"I'm married, dear friend."

"Does he know that?" Gemma quipped, pointing a look at her friend's ringless finger.

Hermione followed her line of sight, chest knotting all of a sudden. "Oh. I-I must have left it in the bathroom when I showered this morning."

"Girl, you don't have to explain anything to me," her neighbour said, as if she really meant it. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of flirting."

"You think so?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. As long as it doesn't escalate to anything serious, I don't see the problem in checking to see if you still have it."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione offered, smiling in thanks to the waitress as she came around with their orders after.

* * *

Draco pulled into the large, dimly lit parkade, just down the street from  _Afterlife_.

It was broad daylight, arguably the worst time of day to do anything like this anywhere, let alone outside of a place like  _Afterlife_. But he'd no choice in the matter. Even though it was Saturday and he had no classes, he'd popped into work to grab something from his office that morning, and overheard a few students by the entrance mention something about 'the spot' being closed that night.

For a private party of some sort.

Going by what they had said about the owner, he could only imagine which  _spot_  they were referring to.

With a pair of omnioculars in his grasp, he observed in silence, focusing the device on the vehicles that were pulling up to  _Afterlife_. For the most part they were catering vans, things of that nature, but there was also a blacked out Bentley in the midst of it all.

"Git," Draco muttered under his breath, thinking the Bentley belonged to Kharon.

To his surprise, however, a young woman stepped out of the vehicle instead.

On the shorter side, familiar looking and dripping in designer clothes.

He recognized her but he didn't know how or from where. Assuming she was some sort of famous person, he refocused, zooming in on her face as she said something to one of the security guards outside of the establishment.

It didn't help that she was hidden behind the largest, most obnoxious sunglasses he'd ever seen in his life. But at least her mouth was visible. Turning one of the dials, he paused and replayed the verbal exchange a few times over, trying to read her lips.

From what little he'd gathered, she was asking if someone was 'here yet'. Though he'd no idea who.

They were either called Milan or Milad or …

"My dad!" Draco blurted, nearly snapping his omnioculars in half.

The girl was asking if her dad was there yet.

Once he'd made it past that part, the pieces quickly fell into place. He remembered where he knew her. In fact he was surprised that he'd forgotten in the first place. Zooming in on her face again, he felt a burst of shock in his stomach. Her name and her face had been all over the news lately, mostly due to her wild nights out, but also due to the fact that she was a multibillionaire's daughter.

Her father, Michael Glass, was an incredibly powerful man.

Business magnate, investor and philanthropist.

With a quick Google search, Draco found the girl's name as well. Olivia Glass. It came to no surprise that she'd chosen a place like  _Afterlife_  for her party, especially given what they said about her in the papers. She seemed to keep all sorts of company despite her family's name. Drug dealers, washed up reality stars, and gang members to name a few. What did surprise him, though, was the fact that she was apparently waiting to meet her father there.

It was possible that Michael Glass was only trying to keep an eye on his daughter, but surely a person of his importance would think to avoid places like  _Afterlife_ , even if his daughter was throwing a party there.

The timing of it all was beyond Draco. Coincidentally enough, he had mentioned Michael Glass in a lecture just the other day.

In many ways he looked up to the man.

But he'd also seen enough in this world to know there was no such thing as a coincidence.

Just as he grabbed his phone out of his back pocket, his partner texted him. On a similar wavelength, it seemed.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Do you still have that contact of yours at Ilvermorny?_

His face screwed.

_From: Jason Grey_

_Yeah, what does Ilvermorny have to do with anything?_

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I'll explain later. Just … be careful around Eric._

Eyes widening at what was implied, he quickly replied.

_From: Jason Grey_

_I will. Have you found the bartender?_

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I'm sitting across from him at a diner right now._

_From: Jason Grey_

_And?_

_From: Caroline Grey_

_He's on edge._

_We won't get anywhere by talking to him._

_And there's a good chance that Kharon is having him followed._

He didn't like the sound of that.

_From: Jason Grey_

_Be careful._

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I'm always careful._

_Anyway, how's everything on your end coming along?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_There's a private party at Afterlife tonight._

_For Michael Glass' daughter._

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Fuck._

_From: Jason Grey_

_I know._

_From: Caroline Grey_

_How do you suppose we'll get in?_

Sparing a second to think about just that, Draco squinted, bringing the omnioculars to his eyes as he recognized someone else in the mix of people outside of  _Afterlife_.

Anna's boyfriend.

Or ex-boyfriend.

He wasn't sure.

Zooming in on the bouncer's face, Draco felt a sharp twist in his gut from the last time he had seen him. Unlike the other night on the train, he didn't have a look of pure murder on his face. He appeared to be quite tired actually, as if he he'd been up all night doing Merlin knows what for Merlin knows whom.

Draco focused on the bouncer, watching closely as he carried a large, wooden crate out of  _Afterlife_  and loaded it into the backseat of a matte black Charger, driving off moments later.

Lowering his omnioculars, the wizard could only imagine what was inside that crate.

_From: Jason Grey_

_Forget the party._

_I have a better idea._

**_Later That Night_ **

"You're sure they won't be home?" Hermione asked, dressed entirely in black.

Similarly dressed, Draco pulled his car to a stop, parking it along the curb of an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. "I'm sure," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt in the quiet that followed. "Anna works late on Saturday nights and her boyfriend is at the party I told you about. And they have no security cameras. I checked earlier."

"Hold on. I thought they broke up."

"So did I," he shrugged. "But I followed her boyfriend home this afternoon, and I saw her car in the driveway. My guess is they're working it out."

Hermione looked to him, scrunching her mouth to the side. "And if we can't use magic? What then?"

"We improvise," Draco said, climbing out.

The brunette stayed seated a moment longer, begrudgingly unbuckling her seatbelt after. "I still think we should have snuck into the party," she asserted, the bottoms of her shoes scratching against the wet pavement as she climbed out of the car and caught up with her partner. "We need those samples."

He exhaled. "Granger, you're one of the smartest, most capable people I know, but you're forgetting something very important here."

"What?" she asked, folding her arms.

Draco stopped in his tracks, facing her as she did the same. "I used to be one of them," he uttered, his left arm prickling with heat. "Not a member of The Collective. A Death Eater. I know how these people operate. The secrets aren't in the samples. They're in the names, the histories, and the places these people keep closest to their hearts."

Chest clenching in response, Hermione nodded. In the five months since they had left for their mission, her partner had never once grazed the topic of his past. It was telling that he only mentioned it when he had to.

"We'll have it your way then," she nodded, continuing on with him to the house at the end of the street.

Moments later, they crept quietly to the back of the house, keeping to the shadows as they made their way to the door, which was expectedly locked.

On instinct Hermione reached for her wand, relieved to feel that her magic was still there. After what she'd gone through at  _Afterlife_ , both she and Draco were on high alert for any potential blockers moving forward.

"I'll do it," she whispered to her partner, pointing her wand at the lock. " _Alohomora_."

Within seconds, the mechanism clicked open, and the house was theirs to explore.

Releasing the breath she'd held in, Hermione pocketed her wand, following Draco inside.

The house was one floor, on the smaller side compared to the Grey house, and cluttered in all sorts of mismatched furniture, photographs of the couple, and overpriced electronics. There was also a strong, earthy smell within the walls. Mostly likely marijuana going by the fact that it smelled similarly to any random park in Vancouver.

Weaving through the clutter as quietly as possible, Hermione went one way and Draco the other.

The kitchen tile creaked under the weight of her steps as she proceeded in that direction. Opening every drawer, cupboard and canister in that room, she found nothing. There was only a half-eaten bagel on the counter and a stack of mail beside it, addressed to the names Anna Hayes and Thomas Amoia. Bills, subscription letters and other odds and ends.

Nothing of use.

Draco had mentioned something about a sealed, wooden crate.

Something like that would have been difficult to hide, even in this clutter.

Quietly making her way into the corridor, Hermione opened the door to the bedroom, the hinges squeaking as she widened the gap.

To her surprise the bedroom had no clutter to speak of. Only a television, two nightstands and two dressers, and a large, unmade bed in the middle of it all.

Hermione proceeded towards the dresser that had the cologne and hockey trophies lined up on top, starting with the first drawer. Inside she found nothing but rolled up socks and boxer briefs. Nothing terribly strange. The second, third and fourth drawers were much the same, filled with a random mix of t-shirts, sweatpants, empty condom boxes, crumpled up receipts and parking tickets.

It was only as she reached the fifth and last drawer that she found something.

A ring of some sort.

Shiny, silver and with a shimmery, blood red stone in the middle. She had found it in the back left corner of the drawer, hidden inside an empty cigar box. For a moment, she had mistaken the stone to be a ruby. But the second she held the ring at eye level, examining the stone using the street light that was pouring in through the window, she felt it all over again.

Emptiness.

It happened so quickly after that.

The skin on the back of her left hand began to burn all of a sudden, exactly where she had been stamped. With a loud gasp, she let the ring slip through her fingertips and clatter to the floor as her partner came rushing in.

"Granger …" he uttered, hurriedly holding her up just as she was about to lose balance.

Hermione blinked, glancing up at him as if she'd only just realized that he was there. "The ring," she blurted, straightening. "Th-the stone on the ring. It's exactly like the one I saw in VIP."

"You're not saying …"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she confirmed, kneeling to collect the ring.

Draco knelt with her, taking the ring in his hand. All at once he felt it, too. The emptiness. "Merlin's beard."

"In smaller form, the stone must block magic only on those who are in direct contact with it," Hermione thought out loud, the wheels in her mind quickly turning now. "The one I saw in VIP was massive. The size of a Quaffle at least."

"So, the bigger the stone, the more powerful?"

Hermione nodded. "Seems that way."

"Why do you think he left it here?" Draco questioned, turning the ring, slowly. "Surely, a ring like this, you'd never go without."

Sparing a moment to think, the brunette glanced over her partner's shoulder, at one of the photographs on the nightstand.

It was a framed photograph of the couple in Whistler, and it appeared recent.

In it, they were holding hands and looking to each other adoringly. Hermione felt a kick in her gut, thinking of the truth behind those smiles. Ignoring that feeling, she blinked down and had a look at Thomas' hand. Indeed he was wearing a ring that was set with a blood red stone, but it wasn't the ring they'd found in the dresser.

"It-it's not his," she uttered, looking to her partner. "That ring. It-it belongs to someone else."

Draco bounced a look at the photograph, narrowing his eyes in thought. "You're right. They must all have slight differences," he gathered. "Like Death Eater masks."

Brushing past him, Hermione took the ring from the top of the dresser where he'd left it, looking closely at it. "Something tells me this one used to belong to Yash."

"Was he wearing a ring at the diner today?"

She scrunched her lips to the side, thinking back. "I don't think so. I'd have noticed something so … ornate."

"Well, there's only one way to know for certain …"

"Locator potion?"

Draco nodded, stowing the ring inside his pocket. "I'll get started on it tonight. Pop the stone off and use the band to retrace the owner's steps."

"And when Thomas comes to find that it's gone?"

"He won't," the wizard said to her, reaching inside the neck of his shirt.

Hermione glanced up at him in surprise, watching as he pulled out a thin, silver chain with a ring looped around it. A different ring. It was of similar make to the first ring, except it was set with a green stone instead of a red one, and the silver was carved with the words, ' _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_ ', on the inside.

Without a word, Draco yanked the ring from the chain around his neck, and placed it carefully on top of the dresser, setting the red one down beside it.

"You're sure about this?" his partner asked, quickly coming to realize what he meant to do.

He nodded, taking his wand out, not a trace of hesitation in his eyes as he tapped the green ring, transfiguring it to resemble the red one exactly. Suddenly, the stone changed colour, from green to red, and the words along the band vanished completely.

There was a beat of silence after wherein Hermione simply looked to Draco, no words coming to mind as he pocketed the red ring and left the other one in its place, carefully hiding it in the exact spot they'd found the original.

In the moments that followed, they left the bedroom in silence, separating again as they ventured to different parts of the house, both of them deep in thought.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder why Draco had chosen his family ring of all the things in the world he could have transfigured. It was only for the time being, of course, but there was always the chance that he would never get it back.

Chest sinking a little at the thought, she set aside those concerns and quietly made her way to the spare bedroom, which the owners of the house had appeared to have fashioned into a home office of sorts.

There was a desk, a laptop and a chair, and two bookshelves full of all sorts of titles ranging from romance novels to university textbooks.

Plopping down in front of the laptop, Hermione flipped it open, tapping the keyboard with the tip of her wand to find the sequence of keys that were pressed on most often. C, 4, N, U, C, K and S.

 _This must be the password,_ Hermione gathered, punching in the first letter, only to halt a moment later.

There was movement outside. Footsteps, followed by the murmur of voices. Stepping away from the laptop, Hermione glanced through the window, carefully, spotting the silhouette of a man and a woman just. They were standing outside, on the driveway, the muted  _b-beep_  of the automatic car lock cutting through their argument as they climbed out of a matte black Charger.

Hermione yanked the window open an inch, listening as quietly as she could.

"Please listen to me just this once, Thomas. I-I can't go back there. And neither should you," the woman, presumably Anna, said to her boyfriend.

_I guess she went to the party with him._

Thomas glared, moving towards the front door. "You're in no position to be making demands."

Quickly cutting in front of him, Anna glanced up, her eyes brimming with worry. "I'm sorry for what I did, okay? Y-you can break it off again right now, and I'll understand. I-I will," she said, as though she actually meant it. "But this isn't about our relationship. This is about your safety. I'm worried about you. Can't you see that?"

He sighed. "I'm okay, Anna. Stop being so dramatic."

"You're not okay," she insisted, in a tone that people used only around those they loved.

There were a few seconds of silence after, wherein the tension between the couple faded a little.

"I know," Thomas said to her. "I know how you feel about my … about what I do. But you have to trust me, Anna. There's a lot you don't know. People who can do … forget it. Just make sure you keep that necklace on."

"Why?" she questioned. "Tell me what's going on. I won't tell anyone. You know I won't."

Sparing only a moment, her boyfriend slowly came toward her, brushing her hair back.

"I can't," he said. "And I need you to stop asking me. It's for your own good."

"But —"

"Please, Anna. Just … stop. Wait until we're inside at least."

Releasing the breath she'd been holding in, Anna followed her boyfriend to the front door.

* * *

Draco froze in his tracks, the faint  _click_  of the lock breaking his concentration.

 _Fuck,_ he mouthed, hurriedly ducking out of the living room, and into the unlit corridor, where he bumped into his partner, losing control all of a sudden.

For a moment, he thought the impact had knocked the wind out of him, but it was only as he met eyes with Hermione that he realized there was something else at play. The empty feeling the ring had given him when he'd touched it earlier, only stronger.

Whatever it was, Granger felt it, too.

She was panting, sweating through her clothes, and the look in her eyes was urgent and shaky, as though she was trying to hide the fact that she was clearly in pain.

In that same second, Draco came to realize three very important things.

First, Thomas had left the wooden crate in his car.

Second, whatever was inside the crate, it was blocking their magic.

Third, his partner had about ten seconds left in her before she was going to fall unconscious.

Taking her by the hand, he whisked her down the corridor and towards the back door from which they had entered the house earlier. Just as they were about to turn into the kitchen, a heavy set of footsteps approached from around the corner.

At a loss for what to do, Draco stopped in his tracks and glanced back at Hermione to make sure she was okay. Barely able to stand straight at this point, she simply held on as he scooped her up and carried her into the nearest room.

By some miracle they'd made it, keeping still in the darkness of the home office as the weight of the footsteps creaked past them and soon vanished behind the bathroom door.

It was only when Draco heard the  _click_  of the door, followed quickly by the sound of the shower, that he breathed out, looking to Hermione in the seconds after.

She was clinging to his shirt sleeves, shaking.

The sight of her like this made his chest squeeze harder than it had in a long time.

Wheeling a look around the room, he spotted the window and then moved towards it. "Stay with me now …" he murmured to the witch, using one hand to slide the window open and the other to help her climb through. "Come on, Granger. Almost there."

Somehow she managed, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from making a sound, after which Draco followed, the frigid, night winds rippling through their clothes and the ends of their hair as they ran down the empty street. Without knowing, Draco had grabbed hold of Hermione's hand again, guiding her, and only letting go as they reached his car.

In a matter of seconds they were safely inside, chests rising and falling as they faced one another.

The life slowly returned to Hermione's eyes, either by adrenaline or the fact that they had placed three blocks of distance between themselves and whatever was inside that crate. Clearly it wasn't the stone that Hermione had seen in VIP the other night. It was stronger than that. Much stronger. And it didn't just block her magic.

It weakened her.

But only her.

Glancing down at the marking on her hand, they came to the same realization.

"The stamp …" Draco uttered, swallowing the urge to say anything more. In part because he was afraid of the words that would have come out if he'd tried, and in part because he wasn't sure if Hermione would have wanted to hear it.

There was no good way to tell her that he'd rather it as him with the marking, so he said nothing.

Instead he forced himself to look away, and started the car, driving off into the night as she shifted her gaze to the window and closed her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

Stirring awake in the early hours of the morning, to the windswept pitter-patter of rain against the bedroom window, Hermione slowly blinked her eyes open and climbed out of bed, stretching her lips into a yawn as she made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Against her wishes, Draco had insisted on taking the couch even though it was her turn.

She tiptoed past the living room as to not wake him, her eyebrows bouncing up as she found him in the kitchen, tipping potions ingredients into a cauldron.

For a moment he'd no idea she was there, the pale glow of the potion reflected in his eyes as he slowly and patiently stirred the ingredients together. In many ways he'd changed since the old days, and in many ways he hadn't. He'd always had a talent for potion making. A sharp, intrinsic precision for it that he'd nurtured since the old days.

Perhaps that was why Kingsley had asked him to join the task force.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked all of a sudden, his eyes still fixed on the potion.

Snapping out of it, Hermione shook her head no, walking past him on her way to the sink. With a long yawn, she grabbed a glass from the dish rack and held it under the tap, bringing it to her lips a moment later. The knots in her stomach slowly but steadily unraveled, and after that, she turned around around, glancing over at her partner.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, if only to fill in the silence with something other than the bubbling of the cauldron.

Draco added the last ingredient, reducing the flame after. "No, we're all set here," he said, setting his wand down. "One day of brewing and the potion should be ready."

Stretching her lips around a third yawn, Hermione blinked the moisture back. "Merlin, last night was exhausting."

Her partner inhaled deeply as if in agreement, his back still turned toward her. "You should rest."

"I was trying to earlier. The rain is too loud upstairs."

"You can take the couch if you'd like," he offered. "It's quieter in the living room."

"What about you?"

Turning around to put a few things away, the wizard shrugged his shoulders, still without looking at her. "I'm not tired."

Hermione fell silent after, sensing that something was on his mind. Although they weren't friends by any means, she'd spent enough time around him to know when he was in a mood. She parted her lips a moment as if to ask what was wrong, but the words refused to come out.

Whatever was on Draco's mind, there was no point in digging into it unless it interfered with the mission. Given that he was up at five o'clock in the morning on the weekend, brewing a locator potion so they could find the owner of the ring which they had found, it was safe to say there was no interference.

In fact this was the most focused she'd seen him since they'd arrived in Vancouver.

"So, I've been thinking …" she began, glancing down at the glass of water in her hands. "About Gemma and Eric, and their dog, Sparky."

"Their dog?" the wizard repeated, curiously.

She nodded. "The timing is a bit strange, don't you think? They move in next door, Gemma tells me that Eric went to a boarding school in Massachusetts that he doesn't like talking about and … well, Sparky was behaving rather questionably the other night."

"You think he's an unregistered animagus," her partner gathered.

"It's a stretch, I know …"

"At this point nothing's a stretch," he asserted, finally looking at her as he turned around, leaning against the counter.

There was about a foot of distance between them, the potion bubbling in the background, and the rain growing louder, coming down harder, faster.

Hermione exhaled, thinking back to the night she'd gone to  _Afterlife_. "A few nights ago, I saw a figure, a silhouette of some sort, in one of their upstairs windows," she explained. "At the time I convinced myself it was just a shadow. They've got that big tree near their house, don't they?"

Her partner absorbed the information, nodding along. "But now that you can think Eric might be a wizard …"

"There's a good chance that it wasn't just a shadow," she finished. "And that Eric knows exactly who we are and why we're here."

"What about Gemma? Do you think she's a witch?"

She narrowed her eyes in thought. "I want to say no."

A similar train of thought entered Draco's mind. "I'll see if I can get a hold of my contact. For all we know, the MACUSA have sent their own people, and we're all on the same side."

"Let's hope that's all it is," Hermione inserted. "Also, I should probably mention that I drunkenly broke cover whilst I was chatting to Sparky the other night."

"Granger …"

"I know," she uttered, rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes. "I'm not sure what came over me. The wine, perhaps? Either way … it's all gone to shit now, hasn't it?"

Draco scrunched his mouth to the side, exhaling after. "No," he countered. "If you're right about Eric, and about the dog, there's nothing you could have done to keep cover. You're one of Harry Potter's best friends. Eric knew who you were the second he laid eyes on you."

Her bottom lip twitched in response to that. "Surely, Kingsley wouldn't have asked me to go undercover if I were that well known."

"Undercover in the  _Muggle_  world," he added. "In the wizarding world, there's not a man, woman or child who doesn't know you, Granger."

"Bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

The wizard calmly shook his head. "Not at all. Back when I worked at the apothecary in Diagon Alley, I used to get loads of students at the start-of-term, asking for the exact items that you used to use."

Her eyebrows bounced up. "Really?"

"Granger, don't act so surprised. You saved the world."

"Harry saved the world," she gently corrected. "I helped."

Tilting his head to the side, Draco gave her an obvious look. "I think we both know he wouldn't have made it past first year, let alone everything that came after, without your help."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "You read Skeeter's book."

"Oh, I absolutely read it," her partner said, laughingly. "When I heard the proceeds were going to war relief, I bought five copies. Also … I was mostly curious to see what you'd said about me."

"What did you think?"

"Well, there's not much to argue regarding the 'pretentious, smarmy git' part …"

Hermione rolled her eyes, playfully. "The other part."

"The part where you said you'd have been willing to work with me had I switched sides?" Draco inquired, growing quiet for a moment. "I can't say I wasn't surprised."

"Were you?"

"I called you a Mudblood in second year. There's no coming back from that, is there?"

Hermione flinched at the memory, eventually shrugging. "For the most part, I'd always thought you were misguided. Pretentious, smarmy and unquestionably misguided."

"That's kind of you."

"I wasn't trying to be kind," she clarified, firmly. "I felt sorry for you."

Draco glanced down, thinking. "Is that why you vouched for me?"

She nodded. "When we were children, I abhorred you like nothing else. You and everything you represented. But as we grew older, I came to realize that you didn't have much of a choice," she furthered, sparing a moment to let her words sink in before she carried on. "I saw it in you during the skirmish. You were terrified. And I felt  _so_  sorry for you. I was the one who was tortured that day … but I felt sorry for you because I could see with my own eyes how badly you wanted out."

Perhaps it was the memory of it, perhaps it was the underlying guilt he'd carried with him all this time.

Whatever it was, Draco blinked it all back. "Thank you," he managed to say, speaking the words quietly, but firmly all the same. "I-I've never properly thanked you."

"That's okay," Hermione said to him, as though she truly meant it. "There are certain things that I can't look past no matter how hard I try," she added, referring to the Mudblood incident. "But I trust you, Malfoy."

Nodding to the brunette in recognition of what she'd said, he uttered the only words that came to mind. "Hopefully one day I'll deserve it."

**_Later That Day_ **

Hermione sat alone in the drivers seat, brushing up History of Magic whilst keeping an eye on the diner down the street. It was the same diner she and Gemma had visited the other day, except this time she was parked two blocks away, in the front seat of a rental car, with an old pair of omnioculars in her hands. The exact pair that Harry had bought for her — and for Ron — at the Quidditch World Cup years ago.

Thinking distantly of the memory, she sucked in a deep, rejuvenating breath and refocused.

Her pretend husband had tried to lend his own, much newer pair of omnioculars to her, but she'd insisted on using the ones that Harry had given her. Apart from the few scrapes and cracks along the dials, they were still good as new.

Steadily bringing them to her eyes, Hermione watched from a distance as the old bartender from the other day, stirred sugar into his coffee and drank, waiting for his order to arrive. For the most part, he was calm, occasionally thumbed through his phone as if to check the time or to see if he had matched with anyone new on Tinder.

But there was one detail — one very important detail — that stood out.

_His fingers are bare._

_No ring._

_No blood-red stone._

That meant, there was a good chance that the ring which Hermione and Draco found, had in fact belonged to him at one point in time.

 _Yash,_ she remembered.  _His name is Yash._

She'd spent another couple of hours that day combing through his social media profiles, trying to find something — anything — of significance to his time at  _Afterlife_. To her disappointment he'd made a point to keep his profiles on the more casual, less personal side. No hints as to where in the city he lived, no hints as to where he worked now, and absolutely no hints as to whether he'd any remaining ties to  _Afterlife_.

All she really knew about him was that he liked this particular diner, enough to go there nearly everyday of the week. The staff all seemed to know him by face and by name, but he only really paid attention to one of them. A waitress around his age, maybe a few years older.

She was small, quick on her feet and she had a nice smile. In many ways she reminded Hermione of Ginny. Including the fact that she was wearing a ring. A wedding ring.

_Interesting._

Turning the dials on her omnioculars for a closer look, Hermione focused in as the waitress came around with Yash's order. He glanced up quickly as if she'd caught him off guard, nodding to her in thanks as she refilled his coffee. They chatted for a few minutes after that. Were it not for the genuine fondness in the woman's eyes, Hermione would have wondered if she was only doing it for the tip.

Whatever sort of interest Yash had in this waitress, the feelings appeared to be mutual.

_Quite interesting._

It was only as the waitress walked away, disappearing into the kitchen, that Yash relaxed.

Hermione lowered her omnioculars afterwards, jotting down a few notes as her phone vibrated in her pocket.

_From: Jason Grey_

_My contact at Ilvermorny wrote back._

_Turns out Eric never went to school there._

Her face screwed in response.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_You're sure?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_That's what they said._

_No Eric's and no wizards that match his description._

_From: Caroline Grey_

_He could be undercover._

_From: Jason Grey_

_I'll look into it._

She knew what that meant, and she didn't like it.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_You can't go sneaking into their house._

_From: Jason Grey_

_Who said anything about sneaking in?_

_They've invited us for dinner tomorrow night._

Her eyebrows flicked up.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Since when?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_Since I ran into Gemma at the shops just now._

_From: Caroline Grey_

_So, what's the big plan, then?_

_I distract them and you go prodding through their belongings?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_They'll hardly notice I'm gone._

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Do you really expect me to let you have all the fun?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_No._

_But after what happened last night, I'm hoping you'll consider it._

Chest clenching at the memory, she resisted the urge to argue it. There was no time for that.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_We'll talk about this later._

_I'll be home in a few._

With that she pocketed her phone and grabbed her omnioculars from the passenger seat, bringing them to her eyes once again, to find that Yash had finished his lunch.

He was on his way out, hands in his coat pockets, and his head tilted down as he made his way to his car.

Hurriedly starting her rental, Hermione pulled away from the curb and followed from a distance. To her relief, his car was bright red and easy to spot. Curiously, he made no turns. He drove at least twenty or thirty blocks down the same road, turning only as he reached the other side of the city, the side that most people avoided.

First left, and then right, and then straight for a few blocks, and then right again, to the curb of an old, run-down hotel.

 _The Morning Fields_.

Slowly, Hermione brought her car to a stop a safe distance away. The buildings in that part of the city were mostly abandoned, dilapidated. There were a few shops and things that were open, but for the most part, it was rather dark … empty. Not one person, not one sign of life other than the echoes of coughing and screeching tires and raised voices somewhere far off.

 _Why are you here?,_  the witch thought, bringing her omnioculars to her eyes, and turning the dials on the device for a closer look at Yash, as he stepped out.

To her surprise, he ducked past the main entrance of the hotel, and instead skulked his way to the back. In a matter of seconds, he was gone. She'd lost sight of him completely. Only then did she take note of the fact that the front doors were boarded up, closed for good, it seemed.

She narrowed her eyes, thinkingly.

_What are you doing at an abandoned hotel?_

Not long after, she caught sight of something in one of the windows. The third window to the left on the tenth and topmost floor. Tightening her fingers around the omnioculars, she turned the dials, slowly focusing.

There was light.

The distant glow of a candle, or a lantern of some sort, if she had to guess.

_What exactly are you hiding, Yash Gupta?_

* * *

Draco exhaled as he put away the last of the groceries, popping a look at the potion after.

It was the right colour, the right consistency and it gave off no smell whatsoever, which meant he was brewing it perfectly. Everything was in order, everything apart from the blood-red stone that he'd popped off the silver of the ring. He'd left it on the kitchen counter, having used every spell he could think of to test for dark energy.

As he'd expected, his efforts had come to no avail.

The stone neither deflected nor absorbed the magic. It dismantled it, extinguished every spell that he'd shot its way, like water on fire.

_Water puts out fire._

_Fire boils water._

_So, how do I boil this stupid thing?_

Falling deep into his thoughts, he jumped when he heard the knock on the front door. He wasn't expecting any packages that day, and Granger had a key … so, whoever was on the other side of that door, they were a disturbance.

There was nothing he hated more than disturbances.

Bouncing a look through one of the windows, he found none other than Anna on the doorstep.

He stomach lurched. "You've got to be  _fucking_  kidding me," the wizard blurted under his breath, dashing to the front door and swinging it open just as the barista raised her hand to knock again. "Anna, what the  _fuck_  are you  _doing_  h —?"

"I-I know," she cut in, her eyes puffy and red as though she'd been crying. "I know. I-I wouldn't have come if I'd any other choice."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, quickly taking note of the fact that she was dressed in her pyjamas, had no makeup on and seemingly hadn't combed her hair that day. "Anna, what happened to you? What's going on?"

Lips trembling apart, she uttered just one thing. "Thomas. H-he's gone."

Draco froze, the wheels in his mind screeching to a halt. "What do you mean he's gone?"

"W-we went to a party last night," Anna explained. "I-I argued with him on the way there and on the way home, and then he snuck out after without saying where he was going or when he was going to come back. It's been hours. H-he hasn't replied to any of my messages or taken any of my calls. Even at his worst, he's not that kind of guy. Something happened to him. I-I know it. I  _know_  it."

Sparing a moment to process everything she'd said, Draco swallowed hard, motioning for her to come inside before the neighbours noticed.

"I'm sorry for coming here again," she furthered, hurriedly wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her shirt. "I-I just don't know what to do, who else to talk to, where else to  _go_  right now."

"Listen," Draco said carefully, looking to her. "I know you're under a lot of stress right now and I'm sorry for that, but I-I can't help you, Anna. If you're worried that something's happened to your boyfriend, you've got to go to the authorities."

Blinking it all back, she quietly exhaled. "You don't get it, do you?" the barista asked. "Kharon's got this entire city wrapped around his finger. If I go to the authorities, he'll know, and then he'll come after me, and then I'll never find Thomas," she said, her eyes pooling as she uttered the last part. "That's how it works around here."

For whatever reason he believed her, but there was still nothing he could do.

"Please, just hear me out, Jason. I-I know I look crazy showing up like this, but I need your help. You're the only person I know with no ties to Kharon or to Glass or to that fucking nightclub."

His ears perked at the last bit. "Sorry, did you say Glass? As in … Michael Glass?"

Anna nodded after a moment. "Yeah, he was at the party last night. So was his daughter, Olivia. Total bitch in case you were wondering."

"I figured," he said, pacing the foyer after. "Okay … I … I'm probably going to regret this, but I-I think I can help."

"R-really?" she asked, her eyes wide and full of hope.

Ignoring the knot in his gut, Draco nodded. "You've got to be honest with me. About everything. That's the only way."

"Honestly, I-I don't know much. Thomas has always kept me out of the loop."

"I'm sure you know enough," the wizard countered, leading her into the lounge. "Wait here. I've got a few things I need to … sort out."

Anxiously sitting down on the couch, Anna did exactly as she was told.

In the moments that followed, Draco transferred the potion and the ring into his study, halting in the darkness of the room as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket.

_Do it._

_You have to do it._

* * *

Hermione tensed, squeezing her omnioculars the longer she held them in place. So far she'd seen no shadows, not a trace of movement beyond the window. There was only light, the faintest trace of it. Whatever Yash was hiding in there, he'd no intention of giving it away so easily.

The second she thought to pop out for a closer look, she felt that same annoying vibration again.

_Merlin's sake, what does he want now?!_

Sighing impatiently, Hermione grabbed her phone out of her pocket, and answered it, furiously.

"Hello? What's going on?" she demanded, the turbulence in her expression tapering away as she tried to grasp whatever it was that he was saying. "Hello? Dra —  _Jason_? I-I can't hear you."

The sound was breaking apart, his words cracking and muffled and disjointed.

"Hold on, hold on. You're breaking."

" —  _we've got_  —  _missing_  —  _Afterlife_  —  _in danger_  —  _panicking_  —"

Hermione swallowed, glancing back up at the window to find that the light had gone off, and that Yash's car was gone. "Shit," she said under her breath.

" —  _authorities_ —  _palm of Kharon's — in the lounge right now_  —"

"Hold on, hold on just one moment. I'm going to see if I can find a stronger signal," she uttered to her partner, wheeling a look around the dark, empty neighbourhood to find that the coast was clear.

Her target was gone.

There was no way she'd have missed that bright red car.

With a deep breath, Hermione stepped out of her car, shuffling forward and then turning left, and then climbing on top of a dumpster behind an old furniture shop. Roughly two blocks away from where she'd started.

"Hello? Jason? Jason, are you there? Say something."

The sound was muffled for a good, long moment. And just as she was about to hang up, his voice came through, clear as day.

" _Herm — Caroline_?  _Caroline, can you hear me_?"

"Yes, yes!"

" _Finally. I've been telling you for ages to switch to Fido. Everyone knows Wind is shit._ "

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her. "Get on with it, will you? I've lost my target because of all of this."

" _Right. As I was saying, we've got a problem. Anna's boyfriend is missing. The one who works at Afterlife_ ," her partner explained, filling in all of the blanks. " _She's convinced he's in some sort of danger related to his job. Hasn't showered, hasn't changed out of her pyjamas … showed up on our doorstep, in tears, panicking …_ "

There was a sharp tug in Hermione's stomach that she swiftly ignored, instead listening closely.

" _I told her to go to the authorities, but she says it's no use. Kharon's got them in the palm of his hand. She's in the lounge right now. I-I know how it looks, but we might be able to use this to our advantage. At the very least find out more about Afterlife and about Kharon, through her …_ "

Hermione didn't know what to say. It was all so much. The only parts she could process just then were the parts related to Kharon.

"Okay," she uttered after a moment, clutching her phone tightly. "I-I'm on my way back. Talk to her. Find out as much as you can."

Draco fell silent on the other end. " _Granger, I …_ "

"That's not my name," she cut in, gently correcting him. "I'll see you soon."

Without another word, Hermione ended the call, carefully sliding her phone into her back pocket, and hopping down from the dumpster, onto the wet pavement. Tiny bits of gravel crunched under the weight of her steps as she turned, quickly ducking out from behind the furniture shop.

The moment she reached the corner, the empty street just a few steps away, she heard footsteps.

Behind her.

So close she had no time to react.

Muttering an infallible transfiguration spell under her breath, in order to tweak her facial features before she was seen, the witch was shocked to silence when it didn't work. The only part of her that had reacted to the wandless spell at all, was the back of her hand.

Her left hand.

The one she'd covered in makeup in makeup that morning, to hide what was there.

In a matter of seconds she was grabbed by her shoulders and flattened against the exterior wall of the furniture shop, gasping as she blinked up at her target.

Unlike the other day at the diner, the look in his eyes was sharp and full of emotion.

Pure loathing, in fact.

"I  _knew_  it," Yash bit out, looking at the witch as though he couldn't stand the sight of her. "I had it right all along. You're  _working_  for him. You're working for that piece of shit!"

Hermione was frozen a moment, chest pounding. "I-I'm not. Y-you're mistaken."

He tightened his grasp, fingers shaking along her shoulders before he finally let go. "What is it?" he demanded. "What does he want? Why did he sent  _you_  and not one of his bouncers?"

Collecting her breath, she uttered the first and only words that came to mind. "I-I'm not working for him. I would never work for him after what he — after what he  _did_."

Yash narrowed his eyes, rapidly. "What are you trying to say? Better yet,  _why_  are you following me if not because Kharon ordered you to?"

She swallowed hard. "H-his people have hurt someone very close to me."

"Sounds like a load of shit."

"No, it's true," she furthered, on the spot. "I can't go into detail, but I-I can say that I … I would love nothing more than to destroy  _Afterlife_  and everything they represent. Slowly and painfully."

He stilled, just looking at her now.

"I know who you are and I know that you hate them as much I do," Hermione furthered. "That's why I've been following you. I-I need your help," she said. "I can't do this alone."

There was something in his gaze that shifted at the sound of that as though, against his wishes, he was starting to believe her.

"Who are you?" he asked, his expression softening, but only briefly.

She hesitated, the skin of her neck prickling with uncertainty. "Rose."

"Just Rose?"

"Just Rose," she repeated, nodding once.

Yash held the silence a moment longer before speaking. "And how do I know you're not lying to me, Rose?"

"If I were, I'd have hurt you by now … or perhaps someone close to you."

His Adam's apple plunged the length of his throat.

"Perhaps the waitress at the diner," she added, quietly. "The one you're in love with."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he countered, convincingly if not for the twitch along his bottom lip.

Hermione looked to him, a knowing glimmer in her eyes. "I think you do."

Breathing in heavily, he held her gaze in the seconds after. "What do you want me to do?"

"Simple," she said. "Tell me everything you know."

**_Two Hours Later_ **

Draco tensed, periodically checking his phone as he waited outside of Anna's house. Given the state she'd arrived in, he'd offered to give her a ride home, so she could get dressed and freshen up, and collect her boyfriend's laptop whilst she was at it.

The more information they had, the better.

"Where are you?" he muttered to himself, alone in the car, glancing down at the messages that he had exchanged with Hermione earlier.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Hey, I'm going to be late._

_I trust that you can handle the Anna situation on your own for the time being?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_Yeah, that's no problem._

_How late?_

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I don't know yet._

_From: Jason Grey_

_Is everything okay over there?_

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I'll let you know when I'm back._

_Don't call._

_I'm keeping a low profile._

He'd read them more times than he could remember, all whilst trying to keep calm in front of Anna. The last thing that he needed was for the barista to catch on, start asking questions that she wasn't allowed to know the answers to.

Exhaling, Draco glanced to the door of the house, as Anna came rushing out, dressed and ready to go, her boyfriend's laptop bag in her clutches.

She climbed in, shivering from the cold. "Hey. S-sorry I took so long. I couldn't find his charger and then I couldn't find the necklace that he gave me, and then —" Glancing over at Draco, her expression changed. "Is-is something wrong? W-we didn't have to come back here, I just thought —"

"Nothing's wrong," he interjected, quickly starting his car as if to put an end to the discussion.

Slowly, and with a touch of anxiousness in her eyes, Anna buckled her seatbelt. "Is it your wife?" she asked, gently.

His stomach tightened in response.

"I'm guessing you told her that I came to you for help … and that she didn't like it."

Without a word, Draco kept his eyes on the road, driving back to his house as the barista stared, a knowing look about her.

"I'm sorry. I know my past actions prove otherwise, but I-I'm not trying to create problems," she explained, as though she really meant it. "If your wife wants to hit me, she can. I-I'll take it."

He breathed in, deeply. "There's no need for violence."

"Normally, I would agree, but it's not really violence at this point. It's just human. Wouldn't you want to beat up the other guy if your wife ever cheated on you?"

"Drop it, Anna."

"Why did you even cheat on her in the first place?" she went on to ask, ignoring what he'd said. "I know why I did. Because my boyfriend was never around and because he was always keeping secrets from me, but I was too weak and too in love with him to walk away. I still am. But your wife isn't like that, is she? You've never had anything bad to say about her."

Draco forced his eyes shut as he reached the first intersection, the red light reflected on the front windshield of his car. "Anna. Now isn't the time."

"It's never the time with you, is it?"

"I'm  _serious_."

"So am I," she voiced. "You can pretend to be an uncaring asshole as much as you want, but we both know that's not who you really are."

To that he laughed, humourlessly. "Believe me, Anna. You don't know the first thing about me."

She scrunched her lips to the side. "I know enough."

"Like what?" he inquired, forging onward as the light turned green.

"I know that you had a privileged upbringing going by your sense of style, the fact that you can eat things like foie gras without vomiting in your mouth a little bit, and most importantly, by the way you butter your toast," she offered, earning a questioning look from him.

"The way I butter my toast?" Draco repeated, amused if anything. "How exactly do I butter it?"

"Like you grew up with someone else buttering it for you," Anna said to him, simply.

For a moment he said nothing, allowing her words to sink in a little bit as he drove. "Okay. What else do you  _think_  you know about me?"

"I know that you were probably in a serious car accident at some point going by how careful you are on the road," she added. "That … or you're just a new driver. But you're kind of old to have only just learned, so I'll take my chances with my first option."

He flicked an eyebrow at her, just a bit impressed. "Go on."

She smirked, visibly pleased with herself. "I know that you probably grew up thinking the world was  _one_  way, and that everything around you fell apart when you discovered that wasn't the case and that your parents had lied to you."

The amusement in his eyes quickly faded. He looked to her, only briefly. "What makes you say that?"

"Easy," she said, eyes on the window. "You help people even when they don't deserve it, because at one point in your life, someone did that for you."

* * *

She'd never been to  _The Green Leaf_  before, but she quite liked the atmosphere. It was quaint … warm. In many ways it reminded her of  _The Leaky Cauldron_ , which then reminded her of home. Not once in her life had she gone so long without checking in on her parents. The other day she'd driven past a dental office and slipped into an unexpected sadness, just thinking of them.

As far as Harry and her other friends were concerned, she had no choice but to believe they were okay. Once a month she'd hear from Kingsley via Head-only transport, and report to him, but he had always made a point to keep those talks short.

 _I wonder what he'll say when I tell him about this,_ Hermione quietly thought to herself, glancing up as Yash returned from the bar.

"Hope you like whiskey," he voiced, breaking her train of thought as he slid into the other side of the booth, placing one of two whiskey neats in front of her.

She grabbed hold of the glass, knocking back her first sip as he froze, staring at the witch. "I love it," she said after, licking her lips.

Eyebrows firmly raised, he said one word to her. "Clearly."

Not long after, they slipped into another one of those long stretches of silence wherein he wanted to ask for her story, but knew too well that she would never say. The fact that he'd agreed to talk to her at all, had come as a surprise to both of them.

_Perhaps he really is in love with that waitress._

It was only after Hermione had mentioned her, that his entire demeanour had changed. Either he was trying to protect her, or he was trying to steer Hermione away from whatever he was hiding in that hotel room.

 _Whomever,_ she found herself thinking.

Finishing off her drink and ordering another, she glanced to him, examining the way he seemed to lose himself in thought without meaning to.

He reminded her of Harry in that way.

The wheels in his head were always turning, connecting dots that often didn't exist, trying to find the answers to problems that he'd unknowingly created even though there were no answers.

 _No … not Harry,_ she decided.  _Sirius._

Looking up at her as though he'd heard her thoughts, the bartender took one hard sip of his drink and then set it down on the table.

"Where do you want to begin?" he asked, calmly.

She swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, shrugging. "Wherever you're most comfortable."

"What makes you think I'm comfortable with any of this?"

"Well, that's what the drinks are for," she said, simply.

He laughed at that, briefly, and mostly in the way he looked at her. "Right. I-I guess I should start by telling you that I was there the night they beat up that university student. The guy was strange … always alone. I'd seen him there a few times before. Not once did he order a drink or dance or talk to anyone. Then one night he started asking questions. All the wrong questions … or all the right ones depending on which way you look at it."

Listening closely, Hermione slid a hand inside her coat pocket, pressing the record button on her phone. "What sorts of questions?" she inquired, gently.

"Questions about Kharon … about  _Afterlife_  … about how it all started," Yash described. "He said he knew something about Kharon's past. Something about a girl. He referred to her as Psyche … like the Psyche who escaped from the underworld."

"Or the afterlife," the witch quietly added.

"Or the afterlife," Yash nodded. "Either way he knew too much. I thought he'd just had a few too many, but as soon as the place closed down for the night, they took him out back and … properly rearranged his face."

Hermione could see the disquiet behind his eyes as he fell into it, his memory of that night. "And you reported it because you felt that it was the right thing to do, regardless of the consequences," she guessed.

Looking across at her as though he'd only just snapped out of his thoughts, Yash shook his head, slowly. "Not quite."

She lifted an eyebrow at the bartender. "Go on."

He took another sip of his drink, this time holding onto the glass after. "I … I saw something that I wasn't supposed to see that night," he told her, lowering his voice. "They … they injected him with something. I don't know what it was exactly, only that he shouted in the worst pain you can imagine. It was torture. They … they tortured him and then left him there."

"I-I don't remember reading that in the articles," Hermione uttered, her chest clenching at jus the thought.

"That's because it wasn't the articles," Yash went on to say. "I tried explaining it to my friend at the station, but he didn't believe me. None of them did. They … they said there was no trace of anything suspicious in him. No drugs, no chemicals, nothing crazy. His test results came out fine, and he said himself that nothing like that happened."

Chewing the inside of her lip, Hermione thought long and hard as to why that could have been.

"I don't care what they say. I know what I saw," he furthered.

"Do you think they scared him into silence?"

He contemplated it, knocking back the rest of his drink. "They did something, that's for sure."

"Have you tried contacting him?" Hermione asked. "I saw on social media that he's London right now. Far from Kharon and  _Afterlife_. Surely he'd feel comfortable enough to chat on Skype at the very least."

Yash smirked, but only slightly. More than ever he reminded her of Sirius. "You shouldn't believe everything you see on social media, Rose."

"And just what do you meant by that?"

"Nothing," he decided. "We'll save it for another night."

Her eyebrows flicked up. "Another night?" she repeated, laughingly. "What makes you think this is going to happen again?"

"You said it yourself," Yash reminded her. "You need my help."

With that, he got up, placing enough money on the table to cover both of them.

There was a curious glint in her eyes as she looked to him after, sliding her coat on and following him out of the pub, onto the glistening sidewalk outside.

By then it was dark out.

The streets were buzzing with nightlife. There were people everywhere, lined up outside, waiting to get into their favourite establishments and party the night away.

Hermione was reminded of her early twenties. Going out, doing things just for the thrill of it. In a state of mind where consequence didn't exist. Part of her missed it. The moment she had finished her Auror training, and found a place at the Auror Office, she'd said goodbye to those nights out, to everything they represented.

Perhaps she'd made a mistake in doing so.

Setting aside those thoughts, Hermione followed Yash onto the crowded train. They had left their cars on the other side of the city, by the hotel, and were now on their way back.

The train had stopped maybe three or four times, the crowd inside thinning out, reduced to only a few people by the time they'd arrived at their stop.

Hermione stepped out first, Yash following closely behind as they left the station. The entire way they'd not said a word to each other, both of them so deep in their thoughts, there was nothing to be said apart from the words they couldn't say.

Regardless, he walked her to her car, and she smiled to him in thanks.

"I suppose I'll see you again … at some point," Hermione said to him, in no particular way.

Yash nodded, casually sliding his hands into his pockets. "I suppose so."

"I-I hope you know that you don't have to help me if you don't want to," the brunette added, just because. "Your friend … the waitress … I've no intention of using that information against you."

Lifting his gaze from the ground, he looked to her as if he'd already gathered as much. "Thanks," he said anyway. "Anyway, you probably have to get back to your … boyfriend … or roommate … or whoever that was earlier."

_Oh, right._

Somehow she'd forgotten all about Draco.

"Roommate," Hermione clarified, for whatever reason. "He's my roommate."

Yash narrowed his eyes as he looked to her, in a way that was curious if anything. "I can't read you," he finally said. "I've been trying to get a good read on you all night, and I just … can't."

"Oh?"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure you're name isn't Rose," he furthered. "For all I know you've lied to me about everything."

She supposed he had a point, but she didn't show it in her expression. "If you're so unsure about me, why have you agreed to help?"

Looking at her in a way she couldn't quite place, he shaped his lips around the last words she had expected to hear from him in that moment. "The same reason you've been following me, I would think."

She chewed the corner of her lip, the winds in the city picking up as they stood outside of her car. Suddenly it began to rain. Every inch of the city, glistening. With every second, the rain grew heavier and fell harder. Soaked in it, they looked across at each other, both of them trying hard to figure the other person out.

The energy was tense, building in the twelve or so inches between them. Slowly and then quickly the tension began to give away as another feeling settled in.

An unexpected feeling that left Hermione's chest pounding as she blinked up at Yash.

Going by the heat that danced through his eyes as he looked at her, the way he blinked away the droplets of rain that clung to the ends of his eyelashes, cheeks flushed from the cold and perhaps from something else, she could see that he was thinking the same thoughts, starved for the same thrills in exactly the same ways.

"Is anyone expecting you?" she suddenly asked.

Pushing the wet, jagged strands of hair out of his face, Yash said nothing. Not one word. Instead he shook his head no, just barely drawing in a breath before it happened.

Hurriedly, as if in a race with their better judgment, they leaned in right there in the middle of the street, backed up against her rain-mottled car, their lips crashing together in the most reckless of ways.

There was no sense in it, absolutely no thought beyond the few seconds it took for them to climb into the front passenger seat. Separating only to catch their breaths, they tore off whatever pieces of clothing they could, biting and sucking on each other's lips and neck between every yank and every motion.

The air in the car turned hot.

Once the condom was in place, Hermione climbed on top, pushing down on Yash and taking him in all at once as he grabbed her by the hips, their eyes slamming shut and their lips peeling apart at exactly the same moment.

If anyone dared look, they'd have known exactly what was going on, the thought of which only added to the thrill of it as she rode him like a broomstick.

**_Later That Night_ **

Draco looked at the time, the quiet  _clicks_  of the keyboard penetrating the silence in the house as Anna sifted through her boyfriend's emails.

"There's nothing here …" she sighed, breaking his train of thought. "I've searched through every folder for the past two hours, and all I've found are subscriptions emails from his favourite shops and video game companies."

Setting aside the discomfort in his chest, Draco looked to her, quickly processing the words she'd said. "Try a different email address," he suggested.

"I've tried the only two that I know about. We're not getting anywhere," Anna groaned, pushing the laptop away. "I-I'll call the phone company, see if I can get a hold of his messages and his … his call history."

Draco said nothing in response, he simply ducked out of the lounge and into the foyer, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. His partner had specifically asked that he not call her, as the risk of being overheard was too great. Contemplating whether to call her anyway, he nearly jumped out of his skin as the front door unlocked from the other side.

In a matter of seconds she was right there in front of him, clothes and hair soaked from the rain, and a strange glow about her that he'd never seen before.

" _Where_  have you been?" he asked, his eyes darting all over the place as she shrugged her coat off and stepped out of her shoes.

"I told you that I was going to be late," Hermione said to him plainly, nudging past on her way to the bathroom.

Draco followed, utterly aghast. " _Gr_  — Caroline, it's been hours. I-I thought something happened to you."

Paying no mind to him, Hermione peeled off her wet cardigan and unbuttoned her jeans.

The wizard glanced away on instinct, swallowing hard as he caught sight of the markings along her neck. Thoughts racing a mile a minute, he said the only words he could manage. "Anna's … Anna's here. In the lounge," he explained. "We've been going through her boyfriend's laptop for the past two hours."

"Any progress?"

"Apart from a bunch of subscription emails, no."

"Have you searched through his social media? Skype chats? Anything of use?"

"Yes, and there was nothing to find," Draco reaffirmed. "She's in a call right now, trying to get a hold of his phone records."

"That's a start, I suppose. Once that's done, ask her if she knows anything about a woman called Psyche," Hermione furthered, slipping out of her jeans and taking the rest of her clothes off as she climbed into the shower.

"Psyche?" her partner repeated, the loud echo of the shower drowning out the sound of his voice.

"I'll explain when I come out," she uttered, talking over the water. "Take notes!"

In a matter of seconds the mirror and the silver of the tap had fogged up, swirls of steam floating above and below the pale blue shower curtains as Draco hovered there, standing with his back to the shower.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if to say something, but no words came out.

_Focus._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

Anna glanced up at the doorway as she heard voices, the muffled echoes of what sounded like an argument of some sort.  _I guess his wife's home,_ she gathered, swallowing the lump of panic that suddenly found itself in the back of her throat. There was no telling what was going to happen that night, whether Caroline Grey was going to take it easy on her or plunge a knife into the back of her neck, but she imagined she was going to remember it in great detail for a long time either way.

Swiftly fixing her attention back down to the laptop, the barista had a quick look through her boyfriend's banking transactions. Apart from one stop at the gas station near their house, just a few minutes after he'd left home the previous night, there was nothing.

She chewed her bottom lip, trying hard to think of something. Just the slightest indication as to where he'd gone and why he wasn't answering her calls.

Deep down she knew there was a chance that he had simply left her. She'd cheated on him after all. But why then would he have left all of his things at home? Laptop, phone charger, clothes. Surely if he'd meant to leave her in such a way, he'd at least have packed a bag for himself.

The moment she thought to take a break, drinking from the glass of water that Jason had poured for her earlier, she heard something vibrate.

_B-bzz_

_B-bzz_

_B-bzz_

Her phone.

Slowly setting the glass down, Anna grabbed her phone out of her bag thinking it was simply her boss, and that she was going to be asked to go into work despite the fact that it was her day off.

The moment she glanced down at the name on the screen, she froze, hurriedly answering the call in the silence that followed.

All at once, the words came pouring out from between her lips. "H-hello? Th-Thomas?"

For a split second she heard nothing on the other end, just the quiet  _click_  of what sounded like a turn signal. It was only as she opened her mouth to ask him where he was and what happened, that he finally said something.

" _Anna, I … I know you've been looking for me, and I'm sorry I left you in the middle of the night, but … there's something you should know_ ," her boyfriend uttered to her, the sound of his voice bringing equal parts relief and panic to her chest. " _How soon can you make it to our old spot_?"

She tightened her fingers around her phone, anxiously. "Our old spot? Thomas, what's this about? What happened?"

Swallowing loud enough that she could hear it, he said the only words he could manage. " _Please, Anna. I need your help_."

**_Ten Minutes Later_ **

Hermione climbed out of the shower, swiping her hand across the foggy mirror, as she took one, good look at herself. Without a moment of thought, she knew that her partner had seen the mark on her neck. Fresh, flushed and fixed just an inch below her pulse, it was rather difficult to miss. She wasn't sure what sort of reaction she had expected out of him, but the look of complete and utter bewilderment that he'd given her, certainly wasn't it.

Suddenly tired, the brunette stretched her lips into a yawn, quietly tugging her jeans back on. In all the hurry getting into the shower, she'd forgotten to bring a fresh pair of clothes with her from the bedroom. She thought for a moment to simply summon a pair, swiftly deciding not to as there was a Muggle in the house.

Just as she knelt down to grab her shirt from the pile of clothes that she'd the floor, there was a knock on the door, followed closely by the sound of her partner's voice.

"Granger! Granger, we've got a problem!"

Scrunching her lips into a frown, she hurriedly shrugged her shirt on as she opened the door. "What is it no —?"

"Anna's gone," Draco blurted, his eyes wide and his hair ruffled as if he'd tugged at it in a panic.

The witch screwed her face, looking to him as though he'd gone mad. "What do you mean she's gone? I-I thought you said she was in the lounge!"

"She was," he uttered. "I left her alone for only a moment, just to speak with you and then to check on the potion in the study. By the time I was back, she was gone. I-I've tried calling her, but she's not answering."

"Shit, shit, shit …" Hermione voiced, following her partner through the corridor and into the lounge to see that it was empty.

There wasn't a trace of Anna apart from a small glass of water.

With one quick look around, the pair was able to gather that she'd left by choice. The doors and windows were all in tact, and there were no signs of struggle from either side.

"What are we going to do now?" Hermione asked, snapping a sharp, anxious look at her partner. "For Merlin's sake, she was a Muggle under our watch! Kharon could have her for all we know!"

Draco ran his hands through his hair, trying to piece it all together. "N-no, she had to have left by choice. You saw the doors and windows. There's no way she was forced to leave."

"Well, where could she have gone in the middle of the night without a car?"

"I don't know. I don't know," he swallowed, at a loss for what to do. "She can't have gone home. She was too afraid to go there alone earlier. I had to drive her."

Hermione brushed past, towards the window, slipping a finger between the curtains to see if maybe the barista was out there, on the phone or something.

"Do you see anything?"

"No," she uttered, releasing a deep breath as she turned away, glancing up at her partner. "We've got no choice. We have to use the locator potion on her."

Draco tensed. "What about the ring?"

"We'll brew another one for the ring," the brunette decided, swiftly making her way to the study, where the potion had been left to brew. "As for right now, we need to find that girl, and we need to make sure that she's okay."

Following only a few steps behind, Draco swiped the glass of water that he'd given to Anna earlier, and proceeded directly into the darkness of the study.

Hermione flicked the desk lamp on, bringing a pale yellow glow to the cauldron, the shelves, and the spines of each and every book that lined the walls. "Do you think it's ready?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the potion.

With only a nod, Draco came to the front, checking to see if Anna had left lip prints on the glass, before he plopped it into the cauldron.

Standing just inches away from each other, they waited in silence, watching as a cloud of smoke emerged from the potion and took the shape of what appeared to be a café of some sort. Not the  _Starbucks_  where Anna worked, but a different place.

"The Magic … The Magic Bean …" Hermione read out loud, narrowing her eyes as she tried to focus on the name of the café before it vanished.

Without wasting another second Draco searched the name on his phone, typing it in as Hermione leaned towards him for a closer look, the ends of her hair still wet and brushing his arm.

"She's close …" the wizard gathered, scrolling through. "The roads are clear. If we leave now, we can get there in ten minutes. Maybe less."

Hermione took a quick breath, nodding at once. "I'll drive."

* * *

It started to rain again the second she got there, tiny droplets pitter pattering against the roof and the windshields of the cab as the driver pulled up to the curb of the café. Most of the shops in that part of the city had already closed for the night, but there were a places that were still open.

The café where she and her boyfriend had first met many years ago, happened to be one of those places.

Quickly paying the driver, Anna nodded in thanks to him and climbed out, shifting her attention away from the cab and onto the café. Specifically the window. It was large and mottled in raindrops, and as she raced over, through the rain and the few cars that were parked along the curb, she spotted the silhouette of a tall  _Afterlife_  bouncer dressed entirely in black, sitting alone inside, waiting for her.

Why he'd chosen this particular café of all places, Anna had no idea.

But she was going to find out.

"Thomas!" she panted, the bottoms of her shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors as she made her way inside, squeezing through the tables and the chairs in the way, and towards her boyfriend.

He lifted his gaze at the sound of her voice, the string lights in the café casting a warm glow over his deep brown eyes. Apart from a small group of university students in one corner, and the barista at the counter, the café was mostly empty, the silence within the walls filled only with the ambient rhythm of music and distant chatter.

Without missing a beat Thomas stood, wrapping his arms around Anna and squeezing gently.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured to her, speaking quietly despite the fact that no one was listening. "Anna, you were right. Y-you were right about everything."

She sniffed through the tears, blinking up at him whilst clutching tightly to his arms and the sleeves of his leather jacket. "Wh-what happened?"

Sparing a moment just to breathe, Thomas led her back to his table, settling in a safe distance away from everyone else before he said anything. "I-I didn't think it was real when they first told me," he began, speaking the words as they came. "I thought they were just making shit up to see if I was stupid enough to believe any of it, but … but …"

"Slowly," Anna said to him, comfortingly. "Take your time. It's okay. I'm here."

"We don't have time!" her boyfriend urged, bringing a twitch of surprise to her eyes before took a short, calming breath and continued. "There are … there are people out there who are different from us. People we're not supposed to know about, who are capable of things that we can't even begin to imagine."

There was a moment of silence after he'd said that, during which time she simply looked at him, question marks in her eyes, and the rapid beats of her heart, gradually slowing.

"Thomas, what are you talking about?" she asked, worried more than ever now. "Wh-what people?"

"Listen, I-I know it sounds crazy. I can hardly believe it myself," he uttered. "All those stories we heard as children, about witches and wizards and spells that can't be broken … they weren't just stories."

Anna swallowed hard at the sound of that. "You're saying …"

"I'm saying magic is real and there's a world of people out there who can do it," he explained, as if he still had a hard time believing it. "They're in our cities and our towns … they walk among us everyday."

"Thomas …"

"I know. I know it sounds like a bunch of bullshit, Anna, but you have to believe me," he cut in, quickly dropping his gaze to the ring on his finger. "You see this? The stone in the middle of this ring? As long as I have this stone on my finger, those people can't touch me. They can't use their magic on me. The same goes for the necklace I gave you."

Anna fell silent, instinctively feeling along the collar of her shirt for the necklace he was talking about. It was only then that she remembered how often he urged her to wear it. As if it were more than simply a necklace.

Without saying a word, she yanked the necklace out from under her shirt, glancing down at the stone, and how it looked exactly like the stone on his ring. The rings that all of Kharon's people wore, at all times.

It couldn't be true.

Every ounce of sense that she had, urged her not to believe it.

But she was starting to.

The longer she looked at Thomas, at the mix of fear and panic in his eyes, the harder it was to see anything but truth.

"Please tell me this is all," she whispered to him, a fresh wave of tears clinging to her eyelashes. "P-please tell me that Kharon isn't making you fight these … these people."

Holding the silence for just a moment, Thomas peeled his lips apart. "What he's making us do … what I saw today … it's worse than that. It's so much worse, Anna."

**_Five Minutes Later_ **

For the most part, they'd driven in silence.

Hermione couldn't believe that her partner had let the barista out of his sight. They'd gone from having a direct connection into the inner workings of  _Afterlife —_  right there in the lounge of their house — to having nothing at all.

Resisting the urge to say something to him, Hermione kept her eyes on the road, steering quickly through the empty, glistening streets, and towards the café. It was only as she pulled to a stop at the first red light they'd encountered, that the silence between them was broken.

_B-bzz_

_B-bzz_

_B-bzz_

On instinct Draco grabbed the phone that was resting in the cup holder between them, taking one look at the message on the screen before he realized that it wasn't his.

"Oh, er … I think this is yours," he uttered, immediately handing the phone over to Hermione.

She quickly grabbed hold of it, the back of her neck prickling with heat as she read the message.

_From: Yash Gupta_

_I've got something that might interest you._

_Meet me at The Morning Fields tomorrow._

_Maybe this time we can actually talk._

There was no question about it now.

Draco knew.

She hadn't exactly gone out of her way to hide it, of course, but it was something else having the words right there on the screen. Single or not, she preferred to the keep the details of her sex life, to herself.

"So, you still haven't explained," the wizard suddenly said, breaking her train of thought. "About Psyche, I mean."

Eyes focused on the road, Hermione quickly remembered. "Right, erm … I managed to speak to Yash today, the bartender who leaked the story, and he … he mentioned something to me about a woman called Psyche. She's apparently important to Kharon in some way … enough that he had arranged for that student at  _Afterlife_  last month, to be assaulted for simply speaking her name."

Draco allowed the information to sink in, taking a moment simply to make sense of it. "Do you think she could be a girlfriend?" he asked. "Perhaps a child of his … a family member?"

"From what I've read, he's single and has no children. I'm not sure about the rest of his family," Hermione offered, swallowing hard as she remembered the rest. "There's more to it. According to Yash, the  _Afterlife_  bouncers did more than just assault that student that night. It's not in any of the articles, but … they apparently injected him with something as well. Some sort of torturous, untraceable substance."

Her partner narrowed his eyes, questioningly. "Why wouldn't they have included that part in the articles?"

At a loss, Hermione simply shrugged. "Because it was untraceable, I would imagine. Yash tried to explain what he'd seen to his friend at the station, but none of them believed him. The student himself said that the bouncers had only assaulted him. No mention of any substances."

"Why do I have a feeling this is all somehow connected to the stones on those rings?"

Her stomach clenched at the sound of that. "Because it is. It has to be."

Without meaning to, she glanced down at the stamp on the back of her hand. At some point, she knew that she had to tell Draco about what happened earlier. The fact that she had tried to cast a simple transfiguration spell, and that the stamp had somehow blocked it. She wasn't quite losing her magic, but there was definitely something going on. Something that terrified her more than a Dark Mark or a forgotten school assignment, ever had.

_Focus._

Not long after, they arrived at  _The Magic Bean_ , tiny pieces of gravel crunching under the weight of the tires as Hermione pulled the car to a slow, careful stop about two blocks away.

Draco grabbed the omnioculars from the glove compartment, where Hermione had left them, and took a long look through them, in the direction of the café.

"What do you see?" his partner asked.

Brushing his finger along one of the dials, he focused on the two figures in the back, one of them a man and the other a woman. A pretty, red-haired woman whose eyelashes were soaked in tears, and a man whose face Draco had only seen in person once before.

The night on the train.

"It's Thomas," the wizard said to his partner, watching them in the dimness of the car, tightening his hold on the omnioculars with each second that went. "Anna's in there with him, talking …"

Hermione tensed. "Thomas? The same Thomas that she said was in some sort of danger?"

"I guess she was wrong," Draco offered, even more confused now, as to why the barista had left without saying anything.

Surely if Thomas were okay, she would have at least shot Jason a text before hurrying off.

Setting aside those thoughts, Draco focused harder on Anna, specifically at the necklace dangling over the collar of her shirt. She'd mentioned something about a necklace earlier. A necklace that Thomas had apparently given her, and insisted that she wear at all times. For whatever reason, the wizard had shoved all of that into the back of his mind, having exhausted his efforts on all the wrong things, when the signs he should have been looking for, had been right there in front of him the whole time.

He could see it now.

Clearly.

The second Anna clutched at the necklace, squeezing the blood-red stone in the palm of her hand as Thomas explained the details he'd kept from her all this time, Draco lowered the omnioculars, knowing now that it was too late to play it safe.

"They know," he stated, swallowing the rush of panic in his throat.

Grabbing the omnioculars out of his grasp, Hermione had a look for herself, watching the couple inside the café as they continued speaking, and eventually left in a matte black Charger.

In a matter of seconds the confusion in her eyes had quickly melted away, replaced with the same crippling realization that had shot through her partner just a moment earlier.

At a loss, she lowered the omnioculars and replayed everything that she and her partner had seen, over and over and over again as if waiting for the stone in the necklace to shine differently, or to change colour, or to vanish completely.

"Granger, stop …" Draco urged, clapping his hand over hers as she turned and twisted every dial she could see, repeatedly. "It's okay. We'll figure something out. We always do. You always do."

She swallowed hard, the back of her hand heating up the same way it did in the alley earlier, just moments before Yash had found her and demanded to know why she'd been following him. "It's not okay," she forced out, for the first time. "I-I'm not okay."

Sensing now that there was something she'd neglected to mention earlier, Draco offered the only words he could manage. "Granger, what's going on?"

With just one breath, she pulled her hand away from his, glancing down at the stamp on the back. The marking that she'd tried to scrub off more times than she could remember. "When … when I was following Yash earlier, I-I tried to transfigure my face so he wouldn't recognize me from the diner, but … something happened. The spell … the spell didn't work."

For a split second Draco thought to ask why, but he stopped himself.

He knew why.

As did she.

"Have you tried using your magic since?" he asked instead.

The witch shook her head no, too afraid of what the result could be.

Without another word, her partner grabbed the omnioculars from her lap, and snapped one of the dials clean off.

Hermione was silent for a second, simply looking to him in shock before she grabbed the device out of his grasp. "Have you lost your mind?! I've had these since fourth year! Harry gave them to me as a gift, you inconsiderate piece of —!"

"Repair them," Draco cut in, swiftly.

Chest pounding with anger, it took a moment for the witch to process what he'd said. "Wh-what do you mean rep —?"

"You know exactly what I mean," he said in a firm voice. "Get your wand out and repair them. With magic."

She looked to him with fire in her eyes. "You think it's that simple, do you?"

"No, Granger. I don't know what to think right now. That's why I need you to try."

"And if I can't do it?" she demanded, blinking away the rush of the emotion that had suddenly pooled along the corners of her eyes. "You'll tell Kingsley and I'll be forced to go home and the past five months that I've spent here, alone and miserable, will all have been for nothing."

Draco fell silent, the words 'alone' and 'miserable' bouncing within the walls of his subconscious as he tried to think of something to say.

In a quiet rage, Hermione grabbed her wand out of her back pocket and practically jabbed it into the broken dial. " _Reparo_!" she shouted, the rain outside tacking heavily against the car. " _Reparo! Reparo! Reparo!_ "

No matter how many times she said it, the result was the same.

There wasn't a hint of movement from the broken dial.

" _Rep … re …_ "

Choking out the breath that she had held in, the witch released her wand, allowing it slip through her fingers and to the floor. Furious and devastated and terrified at the same time, she pounded her fists against the steering wheel as her partner simply watched.

He had no words, nothing he could offer her in that moment, apart from the gentle reminder that she wasn't alone.

Not anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

The rumble of the engine was abruptly silenced as Malfoy steered the car into the driveway of their house, switching it off and tugging the keys from the ignition in the quiet after.

Suddenly there were no distractions.

No traffic lights, no buildings, no passing cars.

Hermione sat still in the front passenger seat barely a foot away from her partner, having agreed to let him take the wheel after her little meltdown earlier. For the most part she'd avoided all eye contact. She knew within seconds of spilling her guts out to him, that she'd made a big mistake. They'd spent five months in the same house together, eating from the same bowls and drinking from the same glasses, posing as Jason and Caroline Grey, but in no way, were they friends.

In many ways they'd made a conscious effort not to get too close.

At least she had.

Malfoy looked to her in the silence of the car, the natural grey of his eyes coming out from under the blue of Jason Grey's as he finally said something. "Granger, I … I want you to know I'm here for you. Okay?"

There was a hitch in the back of her throat. Glancing down, she uttered the only words she could manage just then. "We're partners. It's our job to be here for each other."

"No, not like that," Malfoy countered, sparing a moment to let it sink in before he said the rest. "I'm here for you, not only as a partner, but as … as a friend. Anything you want, anything you need … I'm here. I mean that."

She fell silent, uncertain as to how to respond to that. The words that he'd used, and the look in his eyes as he'd said them, had felt genuine enough. Maybe that was the problem.

"Thanks, but I can get by on my own," she uttered to him, hurriedly undoing her seatbelt and climbing out of the car without another word.

For a split second he simply watched, silenced by her reaction before he quickly climbed out after her, only a step or two behind as he followed her through the door and into the dimness of the house. "Granger, wait …" he blurted, in the kitchen now.

"What is it now?" she snapped, opening and closing one of the bottom cupboards as she grabbed the kettle and then filled it with water in the sink.

Hovering there in silence, Malfoy hesitated for a moment. "I-I know I've been a massive disappointment to you as a partner, but I want you to know that you're not alone. I may not be as good a friend as Potter or Weasley or his sister, but I do care. And I want to make this work."

She swallowed hard, setting the kettle on the stove and cranking the burner up all the way as she kept her back to him.

"You can talk to me," he went on to say, calmer now. "About anything."

In the back of her mind she knew that it was important for them to establish open lines of communication if they'd any hope of completing this mission, but it was strange hearing those words in his voice.

"What exactly do you want me to say?" she asked, still without looking at him. "Was it not enough for you? My little meltdown in the car earlier?"

With a deep breath, he hung back. "I get it. You're going through a lot right now. I want to help, I just … I need you to let me in."

"Please  _stop_  saying things like that."

"Like what?"

She tensed, squeezing the edge of the counter as she held on. "You know exactly what."

"Believe me, Granger, I'm not as clever as I may seem," he offered, gently.

"Don't be ridiculous," she frowned. "You were second in our year."

"And you were first."

"So?"

"So, I need you just as much as you need me right now," he furthered, a beat of silence between that part and the part that followed. "More."

Hermione held it in, the quiet tug in her chest. It was true. Everything he said was true. Apart from maybe the last bit. She just wasn't sure how to do it, how to let him in the way he wanted her to. In the way she wanted herself to before she lost her mind.

Quietly turning around to face him, the air in the room suddenly thickened as she glanced up, locking eyes with him. "What do you want me to do? Tell you how scared I am that I'm losing my magic? Cry on your shoulder? Is that it?"

There was a dash of uncertainty in his eyes as if he honestly hadn't thought that far ahead.

"If you want the honest truth, I didn't expect much from you going into this mission. So there's no disappointment to be had," she added, briskly. "Happy?"

He simply stood there, unperturbed if not for the twitch of his bottom lip. "Are you just about done?" he asked. "Because there's something I'd like to try. Something that I think will help."

Utterly exhausted at this point, Hermione resisted the urge to keep the argument going. "What is it?" she forced out, chest clenching for just a moment as Malfoy stepped towards her.

Without a word he held his hands out in the foot of distance between them, palms up as if waiting for her to place hers on top. "My Mum used to do this for me when I was a child," he explained, tracing his fingertips along Hermione's palms as she tentatively brought her hands forward. "It's supposed to help enhance magical development. I … I'm not sure if it helps to restore any magic that's lost, or blocked, but it's worth a try."

She glanced down between them, quietly observing his movements, before the realization had finally hit her.

Eyebrows flicking up, she looked to him. "You had development problems?"

"Before I was of age to attend Hogwarts," he detailed. "That's … part of the reason why I tried so hard to prove that I was better than Potter at everything. It always came so easily to him."

Hermione could hardly believe it.

To her memory, Malfoy had always been the best, or the second best, at everything he had tried in school. But it wasn't without effort. In that way they'd always been similar.

She thought long and hard about it, nearly forgetting they were standing with their hands together in the darkness of the kitchen. The glow of the burner behind her as water in the kettle started to heat up.

Opting for silence, her partner carried on tracing his fingertips in the palms of her hands, the heat from his touch slowly building. "Do you feel anything?"

"Am I meant to feel something?" she asked.

"That's the idea," he told her. "Close your eyes. I'll walk you through it."

Without any other options as of now, Hermione did exactly as he'd said.

She closed her eyes, clearing her mind of the worries racing through it, the sound of his voice cutting through her stresses like a knife through curtain.

"Think of your first taste," he murmured. "The first time you felt the rush of magic at your fingertips."

_How does he expect me to … what does he even mean by … oh, just go along with it before he asks you to be his friend again._

She hesitated, thinking quietly of the time at the park when she was eight years old. Her father had taken her there during one of his visits, back when her parents were separated. At the time she had no idea what was going on, why her father had packed his things and left the house, but he did eventually move back in after the accident.

Somehow during this visit to the park, eight-year-old Hermione had climbed to the top of the tallest tree, and fallen on her way down. She remembered the gasps and the shouts for help, and she remembered her father's outline as he raced over to her as fast as he could.

The pain had crept up on her slowly, once the shock of having fallen had tapered away.

Seconds before her body had hit the ground, she'd felt this strange, inexplicable burst of her energy in her chest. At that age she had no idea what it was, only that it had softened the ground beneath her for just a split second, and as a result, saved her life.

She'd still broken her leg in two places, of course, and she'd spent that rest of the summer resting inside whilst all of the other children in the neighbourhood were out soaking up the sun, but it was during that summer that her parents had come together and worked through their differences.

For her and for them.

Years later now, Hermione tried hard to focus on that memory. On what her first taste of magic had felt like. The ball of energy in her chest and the way her fingers and toes and the roots of her hair had prickled with a sensation she'd never felt before, as the energy had shot through her.

She drew in a quick breath, her lips slowly separating as she felt something.

Deep inside.

"Where is it?" Malfoy asked, his voice quiet and steady as he dragged his fingertips to her wrist, hovering just a hair above her pulse.

Chest rising and falling now, Hermione swallowed her breath. "Everywhere."

"Is it hot or cold?" her partner furthered, speaking to her carefully.

"Hot."

"How deep?"

"R-really deep," she forced out, breathlessly now. "As deep as possible."

Halting for just a moment, Malfoy brought his fingertips higher now. All the way up her arms, to the inner curve of her neck. "Is this okay?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, quickly. "Y-yeah."

Brushing past the marking on her neck, the pureblood slowly dragged his fingertips back down again. All the way down her arms, past her wrists and to the dips of her palms. This time, however, he straightened his fingers and wove them between hers, holding on as the paths he'd created began to prickle with heat.

It was like that day at the park all over again, except it wasn't just the small traces of her own magic that were racing through her — it was his magic, too. Only then did she realize he'd awoken the magic inside her. Brought whatever remained of it to life, using only his fingertips.

As expected the sensation didn't last, but in those few seconds, she had felt a spark of something that she could only describe as magical.

"Okay," Malfoy murmured to her, letting go of her hands. "Open your eyes."

Releasing the breath that she had held in, Hermione carefully blinked her eyes open, the whisper of grey in her partner's eyes, fixed squarely on her, deeply and attentively as if waiting for some indication that it had worked.

The second she parted her lips, a sharp and unexpected whistle tore through the silence in the kitchen.

She immediately snapped out it, hurriedly turning around to lift the kettle from the burner as her partner took a couple of steps back, giving her space to collect her thoughts whilst he did the same.

It was only as she finished preparing her tea, turning around to look at him again, that she finally broke the silence.

"Whatever it was that you did back there …. it worked," she uttered. "It was only for a few seconds, but it … it worked. I felt something."

There wasn't a trace of shock in his expression.

"I'd like to try again after we have dinner with the neighbours tomorrow," she went on to say. "If that's okay with you."

He said nothing to her in response, he simply nodded.

**_The Next Day_ **

Draco awoke to the sound of his alarm, morning light pouring in from between the curtains in the lounge as he tiredly grabbed for his phone. Slowly sitting up, he rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes and took one good look at the screen to see that it was eight o'clock in the morning, and that he had a text message waiting for him

_From: Anna Hayes_

_Hey, sorry I left without saying anything last night._

_Turns out I was wrong._

_Thomas wasn't in danger._

_He just needed time to think._

_We're back together now._

Sparing only a few moments to process the messages the barista had sent to him, Draco typed the only thing he could think of without hinting at the fact that he knew at least part of the truth.

_From: Jason Grey_

_I'm glad you were able to work it out._

Within seconds she replied.

_From: Anna Hayes_

_How are things with your wife?_

_You guys are working it out, too, aren't you?_

He hesitated.

_From: Jason Grey_

_We're getting there. Slowly._

_From: Anna Hayes_

_That's good._

_She's way hotter than I expected by the way._

Lifting an eyebrow at that, Draco wasn't sure what to say. He figured Anna had seen photographs of Granger back at the house, when she was waiting for him in the lounge alone.

_From: Jason Grey_

_I'll tell her you said that._

_Er … maybe not, actually._

_From: Anna Hayes_

_Yeah, that's kind of what I wanted to get to._

_Now that Thomas is back, and you're working on your marriage, we_

_don't really have a reason to keep talking, do we?_

Draco tensed.

As much as he wanted to part ways with Anna, he couldn't let her fade into the background like this. Not when she had a direct connection into  _Afterlife_.

Whatever he said, he had to be careful.

Immensely careful.

_From: Jason Grey_

_I don't suppose we could be friends?_

_We spent an entire day together and nothing happened._

_Not one thing._

_That must mean we're past it, don't you think?_

He chewed his bottom lip as he waited, shirtless and hair pushed back on the couch.

_From: Anna Hayes_

_Jason …_

_You know we can't._

_From: Jason Grey_

_All I know is that you were crying, pounding on my door and_

_asking for help just a day ago._

_And now you're saying everything's okay._

_I'm worried about you, Anna._

_From: Anna Hayes_

_It's not as simple as you're making it out to be._

_I told my boyfriend that I wouldn't contact you again._

_From: Jason Grey_

_So, why did you?_

There was a long gap between this message and the next, as if Anna was asking herself that same question.

_From: Anna Hayes_

_There's a lot going on right now._

_I can't get into it._

_From: Jason Grey_

_I'm one call away, Anna._

_When you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen._

With that, the conversation was over.

Draco got up and took a shower, quietly making his way into the bedroom afterwards to see that Granger was still fast asleep. For the third night in a row, he'd slept on the couch. She was going through enough. Offering the bed to her was the least he could have done.

Tiptoeing into the closet, he extracted a fresh change of clothes, hurriedly tugging them on as his partner stirred in her sleep.

"Yash …" she murmured, her voice muffled against the pillow as she shifted under the covers.

His eyebrows shot up.  _She's having a dream about the bartender that saw last night,_ he gathered.  _The one who asked that she see him again today._

On the other side of the closet door, Granger continued to moan in her sleep. "Y-yes … right … right there …" she said, tiredly dragging the words out. "Right … right there …"

Stomach tensing up now, Draco froze. He had no idea what to do, how to get out of the bedroom without waking her up and cluing her into the fact that he'd heard everything. Although he didn't need any further proof, he now knew for sure that Yash Gupta had given her the marking on her neck.

For whatever reason, the idea of that, left a bad feeling in his stomach.

Slowly, Granger stopped stirring and fell back asleep, and with that Draco ducked out of there as quickly and quietly as he could.

**_Three Hours Later_ **

Hermione blinked her eyes open as wide as she could, tightening her hold on the steering wheel as she sat in traffic. There was construction on the road ahead, and apparently every last driver in front of her had forgotten how to merge. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves in her stomach whilst also trying to stay awake.

Given everything that had happened the night before, she'd struggled to fall asleep. She'd tossed and turned for hours, staring up at the ceiling as if waiting for it to swallow her whole before the thoughts in her mind had finally settled.

As expected, her partner had already left for work by the time she had woken up. He had an early class that morning. Though he'd apparently set aside enough time to brew another locator potion in his study. She'd poked her head in there to look for him, the orange glow of the flame creating shadows along the walls.

Stretching her lips into a yawn, she lowered her window hoping the cool air would help wake her up.

It was only as her phone vibrated from within the confines of her bag, that she turned away from the window.

Someone was calling her.

For whatever reason she'd assumed that it was Yash, the thought of which had made her panic, in a good way. Quickly grabbing her phone out of her bag, she was startled to find a blocked name and number, flashing across the screen.

Hesitating for only a moment, she accepted the call. "Hello?"

There was nothing for a couple of seconds, not one sound apart from the scratch of footsteps on pavement. Whoever had called, they must have been outside.

"Is … anyone there?" she asked, the traffic slowly moving, only to stop again a few cars ahead.

Again, there was nothing. Not a word of response, not even the scratch of footsteps.

The longer she sat there, phone on her lap as she grasped the steering wheel, the harder it was to stay focused on the road. "Whoever this is … I can't hear you. I-I'm going to end the call now," she stated, clearly.

This time there was the sound of breathing. Low, heavy breathing.

Hermione swallowed hard. "If you're there, say something." Waiting roughly ten seconds for this person to speak up, she finally had enough. She ended the call and quickly sent a message to her partner before the cars ahead began moving.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I got a call from a blocked number._

_They didn't say anything when I answered._

_But they were definitely listening._

It wasn't until she had arrived at the bookshop for work, that she was able to check for a reply.

_From: Jason Grey_

_What?_

_When was this?_

Walking past the bookshelves, Hermione took to the office in the back, eyes glued to her phone.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Just now._

_On my way to work._

_From: Jason Grey_

_Fuck._

_Maybe lock the doors for today._

_I'll come by to pick you up after my last class._

She tensed.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_You don't have to do that._

_I was just telling you to let you know._

_I'm not scared that something bad will happen._

_From: Jason Grey_

_I am._

_Plus we've got that dinner at Eric and Gemma's tonight._

Somehow she'd forgotten all about that.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_What time do we have to be there again?_

_From: Jason Grey_

_Er … I think about eight o'clock. Why?_

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I agreed to meet Yash at midnight._

There was a moment or two of silence before he replied.

_From: Jason Grey_

_Are you sure we can trust him?_

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Well, I would hope so considering he's been inside me._

She stopped herself before she pressed  _send_  on that one, hurriedly typing something else.

_From: Caroline Grey_

_I suppose I'll find out tonight._

_From: Jason Grey_

_Okay._

_Call me if you need anything._

* * *

Draco pocketed his phone, ignoring the growing discomfort in his stomach as he stuffed the rest of his lunch into his mouth and paid, stepping out of the restaurant and towards the university for his next class.

Racing past a group of students in front of the nearby  _Starbucks_ , he instinctively glanced through the window to find that Anna was working that day. She was in front taking orders and scribbling names onto cups, dressed in a black shirt and a green apron. Going by the dark circles around her eyes and the fact that her hair was up in a messy topknot instead of down in waves, he figured she had a rough night.

Tensing up, Draco slowed in front of the doors, quietly ducking behind a young couple that was standing there, poking straws into their drinks.

The sun was out, bouncing brightly against the glass and obscuring his view. He squinted hard to see what was going on, just barely catching sight of Anna as she ducked out for her break. To his knowledge she usually went out back to vape or to call her boyfriend during her breaks.

Throat clenching, the wizard glanced down at the time on his phone to see that his next class was to start in roughly ten minutes. By that point, he would normally have been dashing towards his building so he wouldn't be late, but he couldn't let the opportunity pass him by. Quietly tucking his phone away, he crept towards the back of the  _Starbucks_  and muttered a quick disillusionment charm on himself as he poked his head around the corner.

Like clockwork, Anna stepped outside through the back door, her vape pen in one hand and her phone in the other. A shade or two paler than usual, she took a quick hit on her vape before fixing her attention on her phone.

In one word, she looked panicked.

As if she'd seen a ghost or been told that she was adopted.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he observed. Clearly she had lied to him earlier, over text. She may have found Thomas but she wasn't okay. Far from it.

Keeping still, he watched in silence as she hurriedly made a call on her phone, pressing it to her ear in quiet of the back entrance. Within seconds she was pacing, waiting for whomever she had called, to answer their phone.

"H-hello? Thomas?" she blurted, stopping in her tracks the moment her boyfriend had answered.

His stomach clenched as he listened in.

"No, no. I'm okay … everything's okay, I just … I-I can't stop thinking about what you told me last night." Her bottom lip tensed up as she thought back to it. "What? No, of course I won't tell anyone," she added. "It's not like anyone would believe me anyway."

She had a point there.

"Honestly, Thomas, I'm worried about you. Why don't we just pack up all of our shit and leave? We can fly out to London or Paris or something," she suggested. "There's no way The Collective will find us all the way there."

Draco froze completely, neither breathing nor blinking as he heard the words leave her lips. Not once in the past five months, had he heard as little as a whisper of The Collective from anyone outside of the task force. In just a matter of seconds, he was the closest he'd ever come to finding the truth.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I won't say it out loud anymore," she went on to say, sighing after. "Just … please don't leave me hanging again. I know you have shit to do at the warehouse tonight. I know you can't get out of it without looking suspicious. Just … be careful. For me."

She said nothing after that, seemingly listening in as the bouncer reassured her that he was going to take whatever measures necessary to stay out of trouble. Seconds later, the call had ended, and the barista had reluctantly returned to work as Draco remained where he was, slowly piecing all of it together in his mind.

Warehouse.

There was a warehouse.

For a split second he wondered what The Collective was hiding there, thinking swiftly of the red stones, the Obols and the ink with which his partner had been branded.

**_Later That Night_ **

Hermione took one look at her reflection in the mirror, scrunching her mouth to the side as she to decide whether she should change into something a little more casual.

It was just a simple couples dinner with the neighbours. Not quite the occasion for a form-fitting black dress that she'd left hidden in the depths of the closet for months. She'd originally bought it thinking that Caroline might need it for a night out or for one of Jason's work events, the idea of which was laughable to her now.

Turning to the side, she examined the length of the dress and the manner in which it cupped her curves without making her look as though she was trying too hard. The last time she had put this thought into an outfit, she was in Fourth Year, on her way to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.

Older now, and in the guise of Caroline Grey, she was on her way to dinner with Draco Malfoy.

With one last look in the mirror, she grabbed her phone and the black peep-toe heels that she had purchased with the dress, and slowly made her way downstairs.

Shrugging his coat on in the foyer, Malfoy glanced up toward the top of the stairs at the sound of her footsteps. His eyebrows twitched up the second he saw her, the tiredness in his eyes melting away.

"Ready?" Hermione asked, brushing past him as she stepped into her heels and grabbed her coat from one of the hooks near the door.

Malfoy glanced down at his clothes, which consisted of the same ensemble he had worn to work that day. "Er … maybe not."

Laughing as they stepped out of the house together, the brunette hugged her coat tighter, against the crisp, night winds. "So, about the warehouse you mentioned earlier. I did some light research at the bookshop today and I found a property under Kharon's real name in White Rock."

"You call that light?" he quipped.

She smirked. "I'll text you the address when we're back at home."

"Good. I'll head out after dinner."

"Tonight? What about the potion?"

"The potion's nearly done," he explained. "I'll just make an excuse to pop into the house later to check on it."

Hermione nodded at that, fixing her attention ahead as they made their way to the front door of Eric and Gemma's house. "Here we go," she uttered, drawing in a deep breath before she raised a hand to the door to knock.

**_One Hour Later_ **

The first thing Draco had noticed about the house, was the clutter. There were boxes everywhere, as if the couple had only moved in about a month ago, which they actually had. The second thing he'd noticed, was that Sparky was nowhere to be seen. The other dog, Wigs, was there. He was a massive Saint Bernard and he'd remained in one place the entire night, curled up in one corner of the lounge. The third and final thing he'd noticed, was the broken door frame in the kitchen.

It was the back door of the house and it looked as though someone had tried to force their way in from the outside.

Both he and Granger had exchanged a quick look they second they saw it, deciding between the both of them that he would go and check to see what could have potentially happened once the coast was clear. After all, the only reason they'd agreed to this dinner, was to poke around.

"That dress looks  _so_  good on you," Gemma chimed in, breaking the wizard's train of thought as the two couples sat together at the dining room table, a spread of sushi in front of them.

Granger covered her mouth as she nodded in thanks, swallowing a mouthful of sushi. "Thanks. I figured I might as well get some use out of it whilst it still fits."

"Oh, stop. Your body is amazing," the Muggle woman stated, as though it were fact. "Do you do yoga or something?"

"Erm … no, I don't exercise all that much, to be honest. Sometimes I go for runs in the morning, but I haven't the past few weeks. It's always raining."

Gemma nodded along, drowning the sushi in her mouth with rice wine. "The only exercise I get is when I walk the dogs. You should come along next time."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Granger smiled, politely.

On the other side of the table, Eric stared down at his plate of sushi and said nothing. In fact he'd hardly reacted to anything that any of them had said that night. His body was seated at the table, but his mind was elsewhere.

"So, I was thinking … since there are four of us here, we should get some drinks going and play a game," Gemma suggested. "Just a little something to get to know each other."

"What sort of game?" Draco asked, only half interested.

Wiping her lips with her napkin, the Muggle looked to them excitedly. "I know it's kind of high school at this point, but I can't remember the last time I played truth or dare. What do you guys think?"

The dinner guests looked to each other quickly before Granger fixed her lips into another smile, nodding to Gemma. "Truth or dare sounds lovely."

"Great! I'll meet you guys in the living room!" the blonde decided, hurriedly clearing the table in the moments that followed.

Within the space of ten minutes, they'd all relocated to the lounge. The Grey's were seated next to each other on the loveseat, nearly a foot of distance between them, whilst the other couple was snuggled up together on the armchair, Gemma on her boyfriend's lap.

In their hands, they all had a glass of the finest Pinot Grigio money could buy, and on the coffee table between them, were two stacks of cards. One dare and one truth.

"Okay, who wants to go first?" Gemma asked, sparing only a second of wait before she excitedly drew a card from the truth pile herself. "You snooze you lose! Okay, let's see what we have here …" Glancing down at the words on the card, she suddenly bit her bottom lip, her cheeks flaring with heat. "What's your favourite sex position?" she read aloud, looking quickly to her boyfriend as if to see if he cared at all.

Going by the blank, disinterested look in his eyes, he didn't.

"Okay, I know some people kind of hate it, but I'm going to have to say missionary …" Gemma decided. "You get the intimacy, the view and the comfort all in one."

Draco figured that Granger was going to agree, but instead she downed a mouthful wine as if to stop herself from saying that she wholeheartedly disagreed.

Placing her truth card on the bottom of the stack, Gemma motioned for Granger to go next.

With another mouthful of wine, the brunette swiped a card from the dare pile, glancing down at it as the others observed. "Er … where exactly did you find these cards, Gem?"

"At the sex shop downtown," she answered, happily.

"Right. That's what I thought," Granger muttered, clearing the lump in her throat before she read the dare out loud. "Kiss the person closest to you for a total one minute. With tongue."

Draco choked on his wine.

"Oh, shit. Now the real game's starting," Gemma chuckled. "Go on. It's not like you two haven't done this before."

There was a beat of silence in the room as the house guests glanced to each other, uncertainty in their expressions. Granger chewed the inside of her lip, looking to Draco as if to discern what he was thinking, whether there was any way out of it. Any normal married couple would have easily completed the dare.

"I suppose it's only a kiss," the brunette eventually said, setting aside the discomfort in her gut as best she could. "Gem's right. It's not as though we haven't done this before."

Draco said nothing, the thoughts in his mind screeching to a halt as Granger turned towards him. In the five months that they'd been posing as a married couple, they'd never once had to do more than just hold hands.

In any case … they were grown adults.

If they could get past the Second Wizarding War, they could get past a little kiss.

Without another word Granger closed the gap between them, hesitantly pressing her lips to his as the room went quiet. In large part he'd expected her to back out somehow, to fabricate some sort of excuse as to why she couldn't complete the dare.  _She could have said that one of us had a cold … or that she'd rather have jokingly kissed Gemma instead._ There was a multitude of paths that Granger could have taken, but she'd decided on the simplest, yet most complicated one.

His eyes slammed shut and his chest tightened at the feeling of it, the hushed tremor that danced across her bottom lip as he tentatively kissed back. Within seconds she opened her mouth to him, and he steadily skimmed his tongue along the tip of hers.

In few words the kiss was soft, warm … chaste in a way he'd not experienced since he was much younger.

It was perhaps the slowest, most nerve-racking minute of his life in the past five months, and yet the moment Granger pulled away, the warmth of her lips fanning through his insides, he couldn't help but feel that it had ended too soon.

Slowly they separated, the outside world scratching its way to the surface as they gently came to terms with what had just happened. How far they'd gone to keep up the facade.

Gemma glanced between the both of them, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling. "That was like … some Jane Austen level chemistry right there."

Looking anywhere but directly at her partner, Granger forced out a laugh, her cheeks flushed red. "Eric's go," she quickly said, breaking the Muggle man's train of thought as he glanced to them.

It was as if he had woken up from a dream, suddenly cognizant of his surroundings as he rapidly blinked.

"Right," he managed, reaching for one of the truth cards, if only because they were closer. "What do you think of when you're laying in bed at night? Spare no details."

Gemma fixed a quick look at him, the smile on her lips faltering for a moment as his eyes glazed over, every ounce of thought he had, flooded by whatever answer had entered his mind.

"I, uh … I think of my high school dormitory," he uttered. "The view, the old oak furniture, the floorboard under my bed that used to come loose when you kicked it just right. I-I used to hide my walkman in there. They weren't allowed in the school I went to. For a quarter a song, I used to let the other guys have a listen when it was lights out. During winter months, I made five … ten bucks easy in the space of a day."

Draco asked before he could stop himself. "Odd they didn't allow personal music devices. What school was it?"

"Sterling Boys Academy … in Massachusetts," Eric said without a moment of thought.

"Massachusetts?" Granger asked, playing innocent. "I thought you were from New York."

"I am. But my parents sent me to school in Massachusetts," he explained, his throat clenching a little at the thought of them. "They said it was because Sterling was the best school money could buy, but … I always figured they just wanted me out of the house and out of the state ten months out of the year. I, uh … I wasn't really the son they wanted me to be, I guess."

Without meaning to, Draco nodded. "Sounds familiar."

Granger popped a quick look at him, a slight twitch along her bottom lip as if to warn him not to say anything more.

The less they shared, the better.

Still seated comfortably on her boyfriend's lap, Gemma tensed, the brightness in her eyes turning swiftly into worry at the mention of her boyfriend's parents. Clearly there was bad blood there.

"Anyway, that probably wasn't the sort of nightly thought the card was referring to, but … there you have it," Eric interjected, placing his card at the bottom of the stack. "Your turn, Jason."

Slowly snapping out of it, Draco came forward and drew a dare card without thinking. "Take off an article of clothing," he read out loud, quietly relieved.

Without wasting time he removed his blazer and draped it along the armrest. His shirt underneath was white and buttoned all the way to the top, framing the base of his strong, slender neck.

In the moments that followed the game continued, starting with Gemma again. This time she drew a dare card, and then after her, Granger drew a truth card. It went on for a few rounds, a mix of dares and truths exchanged between the four of them until they had cleared the wine from their glasses.

"I'll grab another bottle," Gemma announced, the brightness having returned to her eyes in those few rounds.

Swallowing her last mouthful, Granger got up as well. "I'll come."

They ducked out of the lounge together, chatting on their way to the kitchen as the men remained seated, not a word between them for at least a couple of minutes.

It wasn't until they had heard a bark upstairs that they shifted. Given that Wigs was curled up on the floor, just a few feet away from Eric, Draco could only assume it was Sparky upstairs.

"Shit …" Eric muttered, getting up. "I'll, uh … I'll be right back."

Draco opted for silence, quietly observing as the Muggle man raced upstairs to check on his dog. The barking was loud … almost distressed. And it was followed by scratching as if they'd locked the poor thing in a room with no way out.

In a matter of seconds Eric returned, a ruffled and panicked Jack Russell Terrier struggling to get away. The moment Draco got up, however, the dog settled. It was as if he'd been stunned, jarred by the sight of Jason Grey for reasons that were beyond the wizard.

"He hasn't been feeling well for the past couple of days," Eric explained, nervously. "I, uh … I should probably take him for a quick walk before he loses mind. Wigs, too. You can come along if you want."

Hesitating for just a second, Draco quickly nodded. "Yeah, a walk sounds good. I've got to check on something back at my house anyway."

**_Five Minutes Later_ **

Hermione brushed her fingers along the broken door frame as Gemma uncorked another bottle of wine, pouring a generous amount of red wine into two darkly tinted wine glasses.

"What happened here?" the witch asked, examining the damage. "If you don't mind my asking, that is."

Handing one of the glasses to her guest, Gemma came forward, tensing up as she looked at it. "I, uh … I don't know if you noticed, but Eric isn't really himself tonight," she began, losing colour in her face as she acknowledged the disquiet in the house. "We had a massive argument the other night, about a text message that I'd found on his phone, and I … I locked him out."

There was a tug in Hermione's chest at the sound of that. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, of course. I-I'm okay now, it's just … I've never seen him get like that before," she furthered. "I accused him of cheating on me, or at least wanting to cheat, and he … he got so …  _so_  angry. It all happened so fast. He stepped out to cool off. I locked the doors. And then an hour later I woke up to the sound of him trying to kick his way through."

"Gemma, I-I'm so sorry that happened," the witch uttered, genuinely concerned for her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Wiping the tears that suddenly filled her eyes, Gemma shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about," she said, flatly. "I've seen the way he looks at other women … the way he looks at you."

Hermione froze. "Sorry?"

"No need to play stupid. I know you've noticed it. Jason definitely has," Gemma detailed. "I … I saw it through the window, the night you and Eric first met. He came up to you in the middle of the night and introduced himself for no reason."

"I was smoking. H-he said one of your dogs has breathing problems," the witch tried to explain.

Her neighbour laughed, not an ounce of humour in it. "Lie. Big fucking lie. He's so full of shit," she grumbled. "He fucked off as soon as your husband came home, didn't he?"

Thinking back to the night in question, Hermione nodded without meaning to.

"I've tried so hard to make this work," Gemma confessed, her lips trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. "I found work. I give him space when he asks. I even made nice with you hoping he would get over his crush if you and I became good enough friends, but … what's the fucking point? If not you, he'll find someone else. A girl he works with, apparently. They haven't fucked yet, but they will. I know they will."

"Gemma, I-I had no idea," the brunette uttered, her own eyes beginning to water.

"I know. It's not you that I'm upset with. Just him. That's part of the reason I bought that stupid card game. I-I figured if he and I were dared to do something intimate, it would reignite the spark that was lost, but … it didn't," she added, downing her wine in one gulp. "Seriously, you have no idea how jealous I am of you and Jason. The chemistry between you. I-I can't remember the last time Eric kissed me like that. So intensely …"

Hermione stilled, ignoring the gentle tug in her chest. "Perhaps couples therapy …"

Snorting at the suggestion, Gemma refilled her glass of wine. "Believe me, Eric's had his fill of therapists."

"Right, of course. You mentioned that his parents had him in therapy throughout his childhood," the brunette recalled.

"Do you want to know the worst part?" Gemma went on to ask, looking ahead at the broken door frame. "I found an engagement ring hidden in his dresser, resting on top of the receipt. H-he bought it three months ago, back when we were still living in New York. I wonder … how could he go from buying an engagement ring with our initials engraved on the band, to shooting a text to his female coworker in the middle of the night asking if the offer for drinks is still on the table, in just three months?"

"I … I don't know," Hermione said to her, honestly. "You don't deserve to be treated like that by someone you love."

"You're right."

"So, what's the plan then?"

Taking down another gulp, Gemma took a deep breath afterwards. "That's the part I'm still trying to figure out," she said, slowly pulling herself out of that deep, twisted train of thought. "Anyway, enough of the sad shit. It's your first time here. How about I show you around?"

It was clear to Hermione at that point, that Gemma needed the distraction more than she did. "I'd love that."

* * *

Draco ducked into the Grey House as Eric waited outside, his dogs with him.

In a hurry, the wizard had fabricated some excuse involving a work email that he had forgotten to send before he'd left for dinner. Eric didn't seem to care either way. There was something going on with him that night, a reason he'd been so quiet earlier.

With Sparky, too.

Setting those thoughts to the back of his mind for a quick second, Draco slipped into the study, the glow of the potion reflected on his eyes as he summoned the ring into his grasp and plopped it into the cauldron without further thought. There was a good chance it wasn't going to work. He had removed the stone, but there could have been traces of it in the silver band as well.

With as much focus as he could gather in that moment, he waited, staring down at the potion as it bubbled and as a cloud of smoke suddenly emerged from the surface.

Draco stepped back, glancing up at the smoke as it took shape.

It was slower this time, darker.

At first he'd no idea what he was looking at.  _A small building. No, not a building. A … a house._  He narrowed his eyes in thought, trying as hard as he could to focus and to piece it together. The smoke suddenly began to fade, dissipating into the darkness of the study before it finally dawned on him.  _That's Eric and Gemma's house. Th-the ring belongs to them! To Eric! He's not a wizard. He's part of The Collective!_

Every bone in his body froze.

He swallowed hard, bumping into one of his shelves as he stumbled backward. Outside there was barking, loud and uncontrollable barking coming from the driveway of the house, where Eric and his dogs stood waiting for the wizard.

Only then did he realize.

_It's not Eric. He's not at his house. He and his dogs are here, just outside._

There was only one person who was unaccounted for, only one person who had managed to sway both Draco and Hermione with her innocent, unassuming disposition.

Gemma.

"Granger!" the wizard shouted, racing out of the house as fast as he could.

* * *

Hermione followed Gemma upstairs, the floorboards gently creaking beneath their steps.

"It's not much, but it's a lot bigger than our apartment back in New York," Gemma said, guiding the brunette up the stairs of the house and down the second floor corridor, toward the door at the end. "Maybe one day I'll gather the energy to unpack."

"If you ever need help, let me know …" Hermione offered, having noticed the stacks of boxes they'd left around.

Gemma smiled back at her. "How are you so nice?" she chuckled, as if she truly couldn't believe it.

Shrugging, the witch simply smiled back at her, still holding the red wine she'd been given earlier. It was in a different glass than the ones they'd used at dinner and in the lounge. This new glass was darker, tinted blue. 

"What do you think?" Gemma asked, opening the door at the end of the corridor to reveal what appeared to be the master bedroom. "I repainted the walls myself. The previous owners had them painted green … like puke green. Sometimes I still see it when I look really hard. Do you think they could use another coat of white?"

Hermione entered the room, brushing past Gemma as she took one good look at the walls and the furniture in the bedroom. It was quite minimalist, like something out of an inspiration board. "Er … honestly, they could okay to me. Another coat of paint probably wouldn't hurt, though."

"That's what I was thinking," Gemma agreed, gently pressing the door closed as she leaned back against it, the soft  _click_  of the mechanism breaking Hermione's concentration.

She faced Gemma. "I, er … I suppose we should head down before the boys start to worry."

"They can wait," the blonde stated, plainly. "What do you say we share a drink to good times? To new friendship."

"Er … yeah, okay. To new friendship," Hermione repeated, raising her glass and softly clinking it to Gemma's before she brought it to her lips. The second she opened her mouth, however, she felt a sharp tug in her stomach, as if her body was telling her to wait. She'd no idea why or what could possibly have awoken this feeling, only that it was amplified under the weight of Gemma's gaze.

She simply watched, waiting for Caroline Grey to finally give the wine a taste.

Slowly lowering the glass, Hermione glanced down it, the feeling in her gut, branching through the rest of her body in an instant.

Following her natural instincts, she tossed wine against the walls of the bedroom, every inch of her body tightening at once as the white paint was suddenly spattered in red.

Blood red.

Obol red. 


	8. Chapter 8

** Chapter Eight: **

She knew that shade of red.

She'd consumed a drink of that same colour once before.

Heart pounding violently in her chest, Hermione made a run for it, gasping as Gemma yanked her by the ends of her hair and slammed her down to the bedroom floor.

She fell with a sharp and sudden thud, head spinning.

"I worked really hard on those walls, you know?" Gemma said to her, the sweetness in her tone having vanished completely as she climbed on top of the brunette, extracting a small knife from the back pocket of her jeans. "Back in the day I used to really look up to you. It's such a shame how much of an idiot you turned out to be."

Pain shooting through her insides, Hermione struggled to break free, her breath catching in her throat as she felt a knife against her jugular.

"Brightest witch of her age? What a fucking joke," Gemma, or whatever her name actually was, bitingly added. "I guess the upside to all of this is that your little boyfriend has finally taken notice of you. It only took three glasses of wine, a slutty dress and a dare. You really couldn't wait to plant one on him, could you?"

Hermione swallowed hard, her senses slowly returning her as she glanced up at the blonde women whose identity she had completely misjudged from the start. "Who are you?"

Snorting, Gemma pressed the knife deeper against her neck. "Who am I? Who are  _you_?" she asked, the humour in her expression quickly tapering away. "You'd think an Auror of your age and experience would know not to trust the sweet, innocent neighbour who just happened to move in when all the big bad things started happening."

"Wh-why are you doing this?" the brunette forced out, trying to hold in the rush of anger in her chest. "If you know of witches and Aurors, you've got to be a magical just like I am. W-we're on the same side."

Gemma's eyes slowly filled with rage. "The only person on my side, is  _me_. That's how it is. That's how it's always going to be," she bit out, switching hands as she popped open one of the floorboards and pulled out a syringe full of reddish liquid. "I want to say that I feel bad for doing this to you, but I don't."

_No._

_No._

_No!_

Sucking in frantically, Hermione tried to fight back, clamping her hands around Gemma's wrists and using every ounce of strength she had to break away.

To her surprise, the blonde was stronger than she looked.

She flattened Hermione's wrists onto the bedroom floor and pressed her knees into them to hold her in place, positioning the tip of the syringe to the brunette's neck.

The second she pricked her, there was a thunderous  _bang_  downstairs. It was as though someone had kicked the front door down.

Gemma snapped a look over her shoulder, tensing up as the sounds downstairs carried up onto the second floor, and towards the master bedroom. "Shit!" she blurted, faltering just long enough that Hermione was able to shove her off. "No! Get back here!"

Stumbling to the door with her hand on her neck, Hermione grabbed at the knob and swung it wide open, colliding with her partner on the other side as he raced towards her.

There was no time to ask what happened, how he knew that she was in trouble, or why Eric was stumbling after him, ruffled and bruised as if they'd fought.

"Quick!" Malfoy shouted, his wand tight in his grasp as he held his hand out to her.

With only a moment to act, she wove her fingers between his and ran with him, past Eric and out of the house, leaving a trail of destruction and unanswered questions in their path as they quickly and urgently Apparated to safety.

* * *

Anna blinked her eyes open in the dark of her bedroom, chest pounding as she heard someone in the hallway. Frantically bringing her bed sheets to her chest, she held her breath as they came in.

"Sorry I'm late," Thomas said to her, calmly entering the room, and going straight to his dresser to change his clothes.

Gulping the lump of panic in her throat, the barista relaxed. "That's okay. How was it?"

"Work, you mean? It wasn't that bad actually. They put me on guard duty," her boyfriend explained, opening and closing the drawers as he grabbed a fresh change of clothes. "I, uh … I'm going to take a shower and then head out again."

Anna looked to him wide-eyed. "What? You just got home …"

"I know," Thomas stated, halting his movements as he tried to think of some way to say it, without worrying her too much. "I just … I said I was going to meet someone at midnight. It's really important that I show up."

"Midnight?" the barista asked, her eyebrows twitching up before she then climbed out of bed and found his side, a twist of sadness in her gut. "I thought you said you weren't going to get back at me for what I did."

"What? Oh! No, no. I'm not meeting some girl," Thomas reassured her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "It's a guy. Someone I used to work with at  _Afterlife_."

"Who?" she questioned, her eyes deep and full of worry as she watched her boyfriend dig for something in the back of one of the drawers.

He pressed his lips together as he struggled to find whatever it was. "The guy that used to make those mojitos that you liked so much. I-I introduced you once. Yash."

The worry in her eyes was suddenly replaced with confusion. "Yash? You mean the leak?"

"Yeah, him. We've kept in touch since he left," Thomas went on to explain, relaxing as he retrieved an old cigar box. "You can't tell anyone. If any of the others find out that I know where Yash has been hiding, all three of us are fucked."

"What are you even meeting him for? Isn't it too dangerous? H-he didn't  _secretly_  turn his back on them like you did," she urged. "Everyone in the city knows what he did!"

"Okay, well, right now that's exactly the sort of proof that I need before I decide to put my neck on the line to work with someone," Thomas said to her, a little sharper than he meant to. Setting the cigar box down for a moment, he turned to his girlfriend and looked to her deeply, comfortingly. "If tonight goes well, there might be hope for us."

Anna exhaled, trying her best to absorb the words he was saying. "Okay. Just … just don't do anything stupid."

"I won't."

"Can I at least ask what this meeting is about?" she furthered, watching as he grabbed the cigar box and opened it.

Bouncing a look over his shoulder, she saw that there was a ring inside. A ring just like the one that he and all of the other bouncers had on. Without touching it, he released a sigh of relief as if he'd been worried that the ring had somehow gone missing, and then tucked it away again in the back of his drawer.

"It shouldn't take long," he reassured her. "Yash said that he met someone who might be willing to help us. Some girl that he ended up fucking … but that's beside the point. She's against everything The Collective stands for and she wants to work with him."

Anna tensed. "What if she's a plant?"

"Then she's a fucking plant and we're fucked either way," the bouncer uttered, as though it were that simple. "I'll let you know how it goes when I'm back. Get some rest. Okay?"

Swallowing the rush of questions in her throat, she nodded. "Okay. Be safe."

"I will."

* * *

Hermione gasped, the adrenaline of what had just happened bouncing between hers and Malfoy's bodies as she glanced up at him, still clinging on for dear life.

Within seconds they separated, the crisp night winds enveloping them as they slowly found their bearings. They were in the woods somewhere; trees as far and as tall as the eye could see, and in the middle of the clearing, a cabin.

The safe house.

It was Unplottable, sealed with magical barriers that would erase every last trace of their lives in the old house the second they step inside, and stocked with everything they could possibly need moving forward. Clothes, food, magical supplies, a new set of phones and identification, and a car.

They couldn't go back to the Grey residence.

It was too dangerous now.

Hugging her arms against the cold, Hermione turned towards the cabin.

"Granger, wait …" Malfoy called out.

She glanced back at him, the rhythm of her heart kicking up a notch as he stepped closer, looking her up and down and hurriedly turning her head to both sides as if to make sure she was okay. "I-I'm fine," she blurted, pushing his hand away as she stepped back. "Really."

The look in his eyes told her that he didn't believe it.

"I saw the syringe," he uttered into the quiet of the forest. "Sh-she was going to do to you, what they did to that student … wasn't she?"

Swallowing hard, Hermione glanced away to keep from showing him the deep twists of fear and anxiety in her eyes.

Without another word Malfoy pulled the ring out of his back pocket, having summoned it on his way out of the old house. "This is hers. We've been so focused on Eric, but … but it was her all along," he said, looking to his partner as if waiting for her to say something. "Well?"

"Well, what?" the brunette snapped, warmth pooling along the corners of her eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

"I-I don't know. I just thought now that we're safe —"

"Safe?!" she shouted, snorting at the idea as she faced away. "Look around, Malfoy. We're so far from safe, it's laughable."

Hovering there in silence, the wizard simply looked to her, concern twitching through his bottom lip.

"Gemma was right. We're Aurors … we should have known better than to trust her."

"Is that what she said to you?" Malfoy asked, quickly piecing it together. "Th-that must mean she knows who we are."

"Oh, she knows just about everything. You should have been there to see it. She had a  _right_  go at me," Hermione practically laughed, ignoring the pangs in her chest. "I'm sure the old you would have enjoyed it. Probably the current you as well."

He tensed at the sound of that, his Adam's apple plunging the length of his throat as he looked to her. "Fuck you."

"I-I beg your pardon?"

" _Fuck_  you," he repeated, firmly this time. "I get that you're afraid. I am, too. But I've  _had it_  with your attitude. Do you understand?"

Blinking up at him in shock, Hermione held her breath as he approached her.

"I've been trying so hard to be there for you and to help where I can, but all you've done is push me away," he uttered, swallowing the rush of emotion in his throat. "Tell me, Granger. When you look at me, who do you see? The Slytherin who used to bully you to hide the fact that he couldn't get the thought of you out of his thick head … or the wizard he grew into, who owes you his life and his freedom, and who would give it all up if that's what it takes to earn your trust. Because I'm not the person I was back then. And I won't let anyone tell me otherwise. Not even you."

She fell silent, just looking at him now.

There was an empty beat wherein Malfoy parted his lips as if to say something more, but instead he walked away, leaving his partner behind as he entered the cabin.

Every ounce of fear, anxiety and frustration that she'd balled up and thrown at him earlier, came rushing back as she stood there, the winds ruffling the tree branches and the ends of her hair. She couldn't move, she could only breathe and blink, and think long and hard about what he'd said. It was only as silence swept through the forest, not a sound apart from the  _th-thump_  of her heart in the shells of her ears, that she snapped out of it and raced to the cabin.

Pushing through the door, her senses were suddenly filled with the  _hiss_  and  _crackle_  of the logs in the fireplace. The walls and the wooden furniture were engulfed in the glow of it, and on the far side, in front of the gas stove, was Malfoy.

He was preparing a pot of tea, staring down at the kettle with so much intensity, it was a miracle it didn't break apart.

"I-I'm sorry," Hermione blurted, the sound of her voice breaking his concentration as he kept his back to her. Slowly coming towards him, every inch of her body squeezed with uncertainty. She wasn't sure what to say or how to say it, only that she had to say something. Anything. "Y-you're right. I'm terrified of what happened back there … of what's  _still_  happening … t-to me … and to us … but that doesn't give me the right to take it out on you."

There wasn't an inch of movement from the wizard. He kept perfectly still, the muscles under his shirt tightening just a little as the brunette took a step closer.

"Please say something," she uttered, softly now. "Have a go at me if you need to, just … just say something."

He exhaled deeply, tilting his head down and allowing the ends of his hair to fall loosely over his eyes. "Do you think I enjoy having a go at you, Granger?"

"I don't know what to think. Clearly my thoughts have led me astray tonight …"

Sparing a moment to let the silence sink in, Malfoy slowly and reluctantly turned around, locking eyes with her in the dimness of the cabin.

"I'm sorry," the witch repeated, firmly this time. "I should have thanked you earlier. Without you … I-I don't know what would have happened to me tonight. That's the part that terrifies me the most. It's been a long time since I've had to rely on anyone but myself."

He tensed. "You're not the only one who's terrified."

"I know," she nodded, practically mouthing the words to him as she took yet another step closer.

Just looking at her now, his jaw clenched in response to her hand as she reached out, brushing the redness along the left side of his face.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine," he asserted, gently pushing her hand away.

Biting down on her bottom lip now, Hermione ignored his protests and came even closer, turning his head towards her as he tried to look away. "Eric did this to you?"

"I'm fine," Malfoy repeated, quietly this time.

For a moment she just looked at him, chest tightening inside her dress as he dropped his gaze to her lips. She had no idea what was happening, or how to stop it, or if she even wanted to stop it. One second she was standing there, inches away from him, and the next second she was leaning in, her eyes slamming shut and the tiny voice in her head fading to silence as she pressed her lips to his for the second time that night.

This time there was no dare and no audience, and the thought of that was almost as electrifying as the feeling that shot through her body as he wove his fingers through her hair and immediately kissed back.

Within seconds she was up on the counter and her bottom lip was between his teeth. He bit hard on it, and she whimpered in response, startled by how badly she wanted him to do it again.

There was history there, years of animosity followed by months of doubt.

Everything he had said to her outside, every word of it was reaffirmed in the way he was kissing her, touching her, dragging his lips down her neck, skimming the zip at the back of her dress with the tips of his fingers, and only after she arched her body towards him, dragging the zip down.

Her breasts were bare underneath, nipples flushed and taut, and engulfed in the heat of his mouth as he took them in.

Lips peeling apart, she released a sharp, quivering moan.

He pulled away just long enough to remove his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossed it to the side before he leaned in again, sliding his tongue into her mouth and his body between her knees as she reached down for his belt.

"Are you sure?" Malfoy hurriedly asked, as if there was any question about it.

With only a quick nod, Hermione undid his belt, button and zip, sliding a hand down his front as his abdominal muscles contracted in response. Glancing down between them now, she felt every inch of her body burn with heat at the sight of him, and the way he felt in her hand. Smooth and hard and so perfectly shaped, she couldn't wait to take in every inch.

On exactly the same wavelength, he reached under the skirt of her dress and yanked her knickers down her legs, sparing only a moment to feel her out and make her shiver before he took her lips in yet another kiss, and gently pushed in.

She gasped, heart racing, cupboards shaking and kettle whistling loudly in the background as he gradually went faster and harder and deeper. Locking hands with her at the same time, the mixed sensations took her completely by surprise. Suddenly she had no idea which felt better, the sex or the feeling of his magic as he set fire to the last few sparks she had left.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

The smoke, the flashing lights and the rhythmic  _th-thump_  of the music, was quickly silenced behind the weight of the door as Thomas ducked into the office undetected. In the back of his mind he knew there was a good chance that he was going to look back on this later and wish that he had decided differently, but the time for second guessing had long since past.

He had only a few minutes before the security cameras went back online.

Swallowing the rush of panic in his throat, he hurriedly made his way to the bookshelf behind Kharon's desk, the palms of his hands beginning to sweat as he searched up and down for the journal.

The tattered, leather-bound journal that contained all the answers.

For a split second the bouncer froze, thinking that Kharon had moved the journal to a different location, and that he had broken into the office for nothing. Glancing down at the time on his phone, the panic in his throat quickly deepened, grappling at each breath he took as he frantically searched for the journal.

One minute.

Thirty seconds.

Fifteen seconds.

It was only as he decided  _fuck it_ , racing towards the door before the cameras caught him, that he noticed one of the paintings on the wall, was crooked.

On the one hand, it could have just been a coincidence, an oversight on Kharon's part, but on the other hand, Thomas had learned the hard way that there was no such thing as a coincidence.

_Not in this city._

Without second thought, he turned his body around and dashed straight to the painting, hurriedly grabbing it by the frame and lifting it from the wall, to find a safe.

Ten seconds.

There was no time to think, no time to waste.

Urgently, he punched in the first and only set of numbers that came to mind.

_7-7-9-2-4-3_

* * *

"You're sure this is the place?" Draco asked, slowly weaving between the old, decrepit buildings.

Glancing up from her phone, through which she'd been searching for every piece of information she could find on Sterling Boys Academy, Granger nodded. "Yeah, it's just up ahead," she said to him, freshly showered and changed for the night ahead.

As much as they wanted to rest, they couldn't.

Pulling up to the curb of an old furniture shop a safe distance away from  _The Morning Fields_ , the rumble of engine went silent as Draco switched the car off, bouncing a look at the brunette in the seconds that followed.

"Anything?" he asked, if only to fill in those long gaps of nothingness.

Granger nodded, tilting her phone towards him. "It appears Eric was telling the truth about where he went to school," she detailed, having found an old yearbook photograph of the Sterling Boys Academy swim team.

With one look at it, Draco came to realize that she was right. The photograph was dated ten years ago, and right there in the middle, was Eric. Visibly younger and fresher faced, and without the dark, lifeless look in his eyes that Draco had seen earlier, when everything had kicked off.

One second Eric was fine, and the next second he'd charged at the wizard like an attack dog.

"You don't think she's got him —"

" — under the Imperius Curse?" Draco interjected, setting aside the anxious twist in his stomach, as he nodded. "The way he snapped earlier, I-I've only seen something like that once in my life, and it was during the war. He's definitely not in control of himself, that's for sure."

Granger tensed at the thought, chewing her bottom lip as she tried to piece it all together. "I don't understand," she uttered. "If Gemma's a witch, why in Merlin's name would she have joined The Collective?"

"Maybe she was undercover like us," Draco shrugged, at a loss. "Or … or maybe she's a squib. It wouldn't be the first time a squib has done something like this."

"She must be a special kind of squib to be able to perform the Imperius Curse."

"Unless she had help."

"Sparky," the brunette gathered, releasing a deep, pent up breath. "Why do I have a feeling this is exactly what Gemma wants us to think? It's too big of a coincidence."

"What do you mean?"

"A Jack Russell Terrier?" she laughed, humourlessly. "Of all the dogs in the world …"

Draco fell silent as he suddenly realized what she was referring to. "Weasley's patronus."

Swallowing through the tightness in her throat, the witch stilled. "All this time, she's been toying with us. The dog, the relationship problems, the card game …" Her cheeks burned with a blend of anger and embarrassment as she thought back to the kiss and the moment in the cabin that had soon followed.

It was clear by the look in her eyes that she wished she could take it all back.

"Malfoy, about what happened earlier —"

"You don't have to say it," Draco interjected, a notch faster than he'd intended. "I-I know it was a one-time thing. There's no need to explain. Really."

Granger quickly glanced up at him, unperturbed if not for the twitch of her bottom lip. "Good. I-I was worried that I'd given you the wrong idea," she uttered, disjointedly. "We're coworkers after all."

Nodding at once, he forcibly pulled himself out of it. "I suppose I should head off then. Go to the warehouse. See what security measures they've got in place."

"You're sure you wouldn't rather we go together tomorrow?"

"We will. I just want to have an idea of what's waiting for us on the other side … before we take any risks."

She glanced down in response to the last part. "You'll tell me, won't you? If it ever becomes too much."

At first he wanted to ask what she was referring to, but he knew. "Granger, you're more than just your magic. You know that."

"Promise me," she furthered, looking up at him now. "Promise me that you'll tell me, Malfoy. As much as I want to stay to the end, I'll walk away if I have to. You deserve a partner who can pull their weight."

"What makes you think you can't?" he countered, holding her gaze under the weight of his. "You do realize, every ounce of progress we've made in the past couple of weeks, has been because of  _you_ , don't you?"

She opened her mouth to argue that point, but her efforts were cut short as he continued.

"You snuck into  _Afterlife_ , you found the ring and you got a hold of Yash," Draco went on to say. "Not me …  _you_. I don't care what that bitch said."

Silenced by that, Granger released the breath that she'd held in, the smallest flicker of surprise in her eyes. "Be safe tonight," she uttered to him, quietly.

"Always."

* * *

Anna paced the living room, bouncing looks at the window every couple of moments to check if her boyfriend had returned. It was nearing midnight, which meant he wasn't due back for at least another hour or two.

In large part she was worried.

Now that she knew what was going on, her concerns had only grown deeper and grappled harder at her chest.

On a whim she swiped her phone off of the coffee table and shot him a text, just to get an idea as to when he was going to come home, and whether he was okay. Although she'd always thought highly of Yash Gupta, she had no idea whether he could really be trusted.

_From: Anna Hayes_

_Everyone okay over there?_

Biting down on her bottom lip, she waited patiently for his response.

One word.

Anything.

_From: Thomas Amoia_

_I'm on my way to the meeting place._

_You should get some rest._

_I won't be home until late._

She swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing deep down he was right, but also knowing she'd no hope of going to sleep until he was home safely.

_From: Anna Hayes_

_I love you._

Quickly, his reply vibrated in the palm of her hand.

_From: Thomas Amoia_

_I love you more, stupid._

In the past she'd have scolded him for calling her that, even jokingly. But after everything they'd been through in recent weeks, she found comfort in the little things.

The annoying names.

The way he would ruffle her hair on his way out of the door.

The feeling of his body pressed tightly to hers as they slept, even on the warmest of nights.

She missed every part of it. Every part of him … of them as a couple. Many times in the past few months, she had asked herself what went wrong. Of course his job had created distance between them, but that was no excuse to cheat.

Quietly thinking of the day at the café, when she had scribbled her number on Jason's coffee cup, she wished she could take it back.

Every second of it.

_From: Anna Hayes_

_Let's get married soon._

_Pop a few babies out._

The second she pressed send, she knew he was either going to stare at it wide-eyed or laugh. She hoped for the second option. There was nothing she loved more than bringing a brush of laughter to those lips.

_From: Thomas Amoia_

_I like that idea._

Chest clenching as she read it, she made a conscious effort not to get too carried away.

The fact that he hadn't dropped her like a piece of a trash, was a miracle.

She took a deep breath, calming the nerves in her chest as she tried to think of something more to say, just a few words to let him know that she was thinking of him. Granted he knew that already, but there was nothing wrong a gentle reminder.

Tapping at the letters on the screen, she sunk down on one of the couches, oblivious to the figure at the door until she heard a knock.

It was sharp, loud.

Rapidly glancing up from her phone, Anna froze, her breath catching in the back of her throat. It could have been Thomas. He could easily have come home early as a surprise or something.

But she knew in the back of her mind that it wasn't him.

She felt it in her chest. The twist of fear that only one person brought on.

Slowly approaching the front door, she set aside the fear in her chest just long enough to stand on her toes and look through the peephole. The second she did, pressing her hand gently against the door to keep her balance, she saw them.

Two people.

Men.

Hooded, strapped and dressed in all black.

Stumbling away from the door, Anna fumbled with her phone in an attempt to text Thomas, to let him know what was going on and that she was in trouble, but she couldn't keep her phone in her grasp.

Her hands were shaking, trembling around her phone as she tried to find somewhere to hide.

Suddenly there was another knock, louder this time. And it was quickly followed by the sound of shattering glass.

_The window._

_They're in._

_Th-they're in the house!_

Chest pounding, Anna silenced her steps as she reached the kitchen, the back door of the house a foot away. All she had to do was reach for the doorknob and twist it open, run as fast as he legs would allow, but her body was frozen in panic.

There were footsteps.

Heavy footsteps.

The blunt smack of boots on a hardwood floor.

The first set had trailed into the corridor, opening and closing every door in their path, in search of her. For a split second she wondered whether they were searching for Thomas, but they can't have been. His car wasn't in the driveway.

They knew she was alone.

They knew she was hiding somewhere in that house.

Pressing her lips together as they began to quiver, Anna held her breath, hiding quietly under the kitchen table, the second set of footsteps echoing closer.

It was only as she heard the scratch of a knife against the wall, following each step as though the intruder were dragging it, that her eyes began to water.

She hurriedly silenced her phone, a single tear sliding down her cheek and seeping into the fabric of her sleeve as she spared what little time she had left, to send out just one message.

One word.

_From: Anna Hayes_

_Help._

* * *

Hermione crept to the back of the building, waiting there for Yash just as he'd instructed.

It was cold out, windy.

Hugging her coat tighter, she darted a look over her shoulder when she thought she'd heard him. But it was just the wind, unsettling the leaves and the pieces of trash in the alley. The back door of the building was locked, otherwise she would have waited inside, perhaps taken a look at what he was hiding in that room on the topmost floor.

Instead she glanced down at her phone to check the time.

It was midnight.

Five minutes past midnight.

One the one hand she felt that he was probably just running a little late, but on the other hand she had a strong feeling that something had gone wrong.

Before she knew it, five minutes had quickly turned into ten.

Just in case, she shot a message to her parter.

_From: Rose_

_I'm still waiting outside._

_No sign of Yash._

Within seconds he replied.

_From: Liam_

_What?_

_He's not there yet?_

_From: Rose_

_No._

_I'm going to find a way inside._

The moment she pressed send, she glanced up to find that there was a fire escape. The ladder was a little high for her reach, but it was worth a try.

Wheeling a quick look around, she made her way towards the ladder and jumped up, just barely grazing the bottommost rung with her fingertips.

She took a deep breath and tried again, gaining a little bit of height each time.

It was on the fifth try that she was finally able to wrap her fingers around the bottommost rung, and pull, rocking back on her heels as the ladder shot down an extra few feet, quickly.

Setting aside she twist of uncertainty in her gut, she quietly began to climb, releasing her breath as she reached the first platform. It was all stairs from there, but the structure was old, rickety. Slowly and carefully, she grabbed at the railing and took her first step up, climbing higher as the winds grew colder, stronger.

Only as she reached the topmost platform, did she glance down at ground from up above.

In that moment, ten floors may as well have been ten thousand.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione fixed her gaze to the window in front of her. It was boarded up like the others, but the wood was old, cracked, hanging on for dear life.

She spared a moment simply to breathe, she gathered what little strength she could manage, and kicked right up against the crack. Hard. To her surprise the crack deepened, and the sides of the board began to separate. Kicking again, and again after that, stronger each time, she managed to break all the way through, relieved to find that the glass on the other side, was already shattered.

Careful not to graze the sharp edges, she climbed in through the window.

The room was empty, covered in markings and dirt, and smelled strongly of excrement. Covering her nose and mouth, she made her way to the door, using her sleeve to open it.

On the other side, the corridor was in even worse condition.

Hermione stopped and gave it a moment of thought. From the front of the building, the flickering light that she'd seen the other day, had come from the third room to the left, which meant from the inside, it was the third room from the right. Chest tightening just a little, she made her way to the room marked  _108_  and gave the doorknob a twist.

* * *

Thomas knelt down, brushing a gloved hand along the dirt-ridden floor to find that the blood was still wet. He'd seen it within seconds of entering the room, along with the spread of photographs and articles that were tacked to the walls. A visual outline of the terrorist group that Thomas had unwittingly joined all those months ago.

Swallowing the rush of discomfort in his throat, he got up, having forced his way inside through the front of the building, to find that Yash wasn't there.

He'd said to meet in room  _108_  of  _The Morning Fields_ and to bring the journal.

Given the blood, Thomas could only imagine what had transpired in that room.

On the one hand he was deeply worried for Yash, and he wanted nothing more to make sure that he was okay, but if The Collective had indeed found him and dragged him out of the room, there was a good chance they were going to come after Yash's friends next.

Without a moment of thought, Thomas reached for his phone to let his girlfriend know what was going on, and to urge her to leave the house, only to find that his pockets were empty. Realizing he'd left it in his car, he turned around to grab it, and to get his ass home as fast as he could, but the second he took his first step, the door creaked open.

_Shit!_

Hurriedly ducking into the closet, Thomas silenced his breath and watched through a crack in the door as a woman entered the room. A short, slender woman whose steps were hesitant, furtive as though she didn't quite know where she was.

She approached the wall of photographs, paying close attention to the snapshot that was taken by one of the security cameras at the warehouse. There was a break-in a few weeks back. A woman much like the one before Thomas, had somehow made it through the gate, and stolen a vial of the same substance they'd used on the student.

A woman whose name he didn't dare speak out loud.

Psyche.

For a split second he thought it was her, and that she was the one Yash had meant to introduce to him that night, but the second she lowered her hood to reveal straight brown hair instead of wavy blonde hair, his suspicions were squashed.

This was someone else.

Someone outside of The Collective.

It was only as she stepped away from the wall, that she noticed the blood on the floor.

She stumbled back in shock, colliding with the wall behind her as the pieces fell into place.

One moment she was horrified, shaken, and the next moment she was snapping photographs of the blood and the walls, and frantically flicking through them on her phone afterwards as though to make sure that she had captured everything she needed.

Only then did Thomas get a good look at her face.

The pale blue glow of her phone danced across her features, across the laser focus in those warm, brown eyes.

 _Her_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten:**

Her heart stilled. The footsteps she'd heard earlier, had slowed to a halt directly in front of the table under which she was now trembling. For one fleeting moment, she convinced herself that she had simply fallen asleep on the couch and that this was all just a bad dream. But even in her worst dreams, there was a ray of hope. A silver lining in the clouds through which she was able to weave a rope and climb her way out of whatever cold, dark thoughts had festered in her subconscious late that night.

To her complete and utter horror, this night was quite real.

There was no hope.

There was no silver lining.

There was only the door and the tall, hooded intruder in front of her.

"I know you're in here," he stated, cutting a hole through the veil of silence in the kitchen, his voice calm and steady and familiar.

Apart from Kharon, there was only one person at  _Afterlife_  who had always rubbed Anna the wrong way. Ian.

There was just something about the way he had looked at her the night they had first met, the manner in which his eyes had quickly zeroed in on her in that dark, crowded space. At the time she had assumed he was only trying to do his job. Keep an eye on the goings on of the nightclub … take note of any women the owner might wish to summon to the third floor.

But there was more to it.

From the start, there had always been more to it.

Setting aside those fears, Anna squeezed her quivering lips together to keep from making a sound, tears now rolling down her cheeks and clinging to her chin.

In front of her, Ian stepped closer to the table, the weight of boots pounding in the depths of the barista's chest as she held her breath.

"It's a shame it had to come down to this," he went on to say. "I promise I'll make it quick when the time comes."

Without meaning to she choked, releasing her breath just as he reached under the table and yanked her out by the scruff of her neck.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, her cheeks glistening in tears.

In a matter of seconds Ian slammed her down against the table, pressing the tip of his knife to her neck as the second guy came racing into the kitchen.

"Found her," Ian said through his teeth, locking her in position and muffling her screams with his other hand. "Get the car … and the rope."

* * *

Swallowing the lump of panic in her throat, Hermione opened her text messages to let Malfoy know what was going on.

Suddenly the room was filled with the sound of her fingertips tapping against her phone.

 

_From: Rose_

_Yash isn't here._

_There's blood on the floor._

_It's still wet._

 

She took a deep breath once she pressed send, eyes glued to her phone as she waited for a reply. There was no telling how far Malfoy had driven away, whether he was anywhere near  _The Morning Fields_. The longer Hermione stood there waiting, the harder it was for her to keep calm and to assess the situation like the Auror she was known to be.

Kneeling down, she snapped a couple of more photographs of the blood spatter, only then taking notice of the footprints along the dirt-ridden floors.

There were four sets.

The first two sets were identical. The same boots, in roughly the same size, and with only a foot of distance between them at all times, as though they'd arrived and left together. Not a trace of struggle.

_The Collective._

_Kharon's men, perhaps?_

The third set was different. This person had entered the room and paced for a good, long moment in front of the window, as if waiting for something or someone. At a certain point, they had abruptly turned around to face the door and either fallen, or been forced down by sets one and two.

Going by the markings in the dirt, there was a scuffle.

More than a scuffle.

This person had been beaten and dragged out of the room, most likely in an unconscious state.

_Yash._

Unthinkingly wiping the sweat on her forehead with the back of her left hand, Hermione shifted her attention to the fourth and final set of footprints.

It was this very set of footprints that she hadn't noticed at first. Apart from her own set, the fourth set was noticeably lighter than the others, as though this person had made an effort to soften their movements as to not create any noise.

She followed their path from the door, to the wall of photographs and the blood spatter, to the shadows on the other side of the room.

At first she thought she had missed something. The other sets had all trailed in and out of the room in some fashion, but the fourth set had completely vanished into the shadows.

Slowly retracing the footprints, Hermione used her phone for light, illuminating the path in front of her only to halt mid-step once she had reached the end. Chest pounding inside her clothes, she quietly glanced up to find a closet.

The door was old, chipped and barely standing.

Were it not for the fresh, clean markings in the dirt, she'd have assumed the closet hadn't been opened in years.

Grasping her phone tightly in her hand, Hermione did exactly as Malfoy had taught her.

She thought of her first taste of magic, the feeling of it as it had rushed through every inch of her body that day at the park.

She thought of the day she had received her acceptance letter into Hogwarts, the day she had learned she was different from the other children in the neighbourhood.

She thought of the day she had met Harry and Ron for the first on the train, the way they'd looked at her as though she were a crazy person, which she to admit she kind of was at that point.

She thought of all of their little and not-so-little adventures that had followed, the ups and downs of living through her adolescence during the Second Wizarding War, and the time that Ron had asked her to be his girlfriend.

Most of all, she thought of the candlelight vigil they'd held for those who had fallen during the war, and the faint echo of a certain young man's footsteps as he'd followed her into the depths of the castle, demanding to know why she had vouched for him to the Wizengamot when he had only ever been cruel to her.

There was pain in his eyes that day.

A depth to him that she had no idea existed.

A depth she'd felt just a couple of hours ago.

In the space of just one second, Hermione gathered every ounce of emotion attached to those memories — the good, the bad, the dark, the light, the blazing hot and the frigid cold — and immediately yanked the door open with one hand, tightening her fingers around her wand with the other, only to freeze.

Standing there in all black, hand grazing the grip of his weapon as though he were ready to draw it depending on her reaction, was Thomas.

Anna's boyfriend.

An  _Afterlife_  bouncer.

A known member of The Collective.

Hermione fell silent, hand behind her back, knuckles nearly tearing through her skin from how hard she was grasping her wand.

There was a chance her magic would never have worked either way, but her instincts were that of an Auror.

They'd always been that way.

She'd always been that way.

In that moment, her instincts told her to stand down.

With a deep, shaky breath, Hermione looked to him for a solid ten seconds before slowly, tentatively letting go of her wand at the same that he let go of his weapon.

Going by the outline of it in his pocket, she gathered it was a small, handheld firearm.

"Where is he?" Hermione demanded without wasting another second.

Without a word, the bouncer stepped closer to her, the steadiness in his gaze, penetrating her thick, outer layers before he finally said something. "I'm only going to ask you once," he uttered, speaking directly into her ear. "What are you?"

Her stomach tightened in response. "S-sorry?"

Before the word had so much as escaped her lips, Thomas withdrew his weapon and pointed the muzzle directly to her skull. "I'll give you ten seconds to answer. One, two …"

"Y-you're not actually going to shoot," she blurted, sweating in places she didn't think possible.

"Three, four …"

"You'd have shot me on the spot if you had any intention of doing so."

His throat clenched around the breath that he'd angrily forced down. "Five, six …"

"I know a trigger happy soldier when I see one. Believe me."

"Seven, eight …" he continued through his teeth, flicking the safety off.

Tensing up now, Hermione ran through every path she could have taken in that moment, before finally settling on the last and most dangerous one. "You'll never pull the trigger."

"Nine …"

"Because you know exactly what I am … and you know there's nothing I can do so long as that ring is your finger …"

"Ten," he uttered at last, the tip of his finger grazing the trigger as the words she had said, slowly settled into the depths of his every thought and his every fear.

Hermione squeezed her eyes closed, holding her breath as she waited for whatever decision he'd made, to come to life.

It was a risk.

A massive risk.

A stupid, thoughtless risk.

For all she knew, he was still working for Kharon, and he'd been told to hide in that closet until Yash's contact had arrived. Surely if they'd found the bartender, they had also found his phone and found every text that he'd sent and received, including the one where she'd agreed to meet him at  _The Morning Fields_  that very night.

She could almost hear her partner's voice, the outrage in it as he expressed to her just how stupid she was for not simply running away.

_How dare you risk your life?_

_How dare you risk the mission?_

_How dare you tell me to be safe when you're standing there with a weapon to your head?!_

It was only in that moment that she realized just how badly she wanted to see him again, to sit with him in the car as he steered through the dark, glistening streets of Vancouver, the hum of music filling those long but comfortable gaps of silence between them.

Only as Thomas lowered his weapon, did Hermione snap out of it.

She glanced to him, traces of shock in her expression. "You didn't shoot."

"No," he stated, plainly. "Not yet."

* * *

Draco pulled his car to a stop, a safe distance away from the warehouse.

Somewhere along the line, he'd lost service on his phone. As it turned out, the warehouse was in the middle of nowhere, and the provider for their new phones was complete and utter shit. He figured it would be okay to have a quick look around the outside of the warehouse, for ten or for fifteen minutes at the most, before driving back to  _The Morning Fields_.

The last thing Granger had said to him before he'd lost service, was that Yash had yet to arrive.

There was a chance the bartender was simply running late, but there was also a chance that it was something else.

Something worse.

 _I should never have left her alone_ , he couldn't help but think, also knowing deep down that she would never have allowed him to wait outside for her like a parent waiting for their child outside of school.

If there was one thing that had never changed about her since Hogwarts, it was her determination to prove she didn't need anyone but herself.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a deep breath and climbed out of the car.

_Five minutes._

_Five minutes and I'm gone._

Taking the forest that cradled the property, Draco shrugged his coat on tighter, dressed in black.

It was cold, windy.

In the distance he could see that the warehouse was blocked by a tall, wrought-iron gate and that a patrol guard was posted at every corner.

Strapped and ready to go.

Slowly he inched closer to the edge of the forest, discreetly looking between the trees and taking note of every small thing that he noticed. The guards that patrolled the back of the building, were constantly moving, watching for any signs of anyone who shouldn't have been there.

There were so far apart from each other, Draco was sure he would have blended right in if he had the right attire.

Grabbing the omnioculars out of his pocket, he took note of a few more details.

The security cameras were all out of reach, and apart from the ones at the front of the building, they appeared to be fairly new. It was almost as though there had been a break-in fairly recently, and as though they had doubled up on security measures since then.

_I guess it was never meant to be easy._

Releasing a deep breath, Draco continued zooming in on various things. The size of each guard in case he was faced with any of them, the paths each of them took as they patrolled, and finally, the colour and make of the car that had pulled up in front of the gate.

It was large and completely blacked out, and as the doors opened, two of Kharon's men climbed out. Both were tall and dressed the same as the guards. The driver quickly approached one of the patrol guards, seemingly to explain why they were there and what was inside that car, whilst his partner opened the door to the backseat, and dragged two people out and onto their knees.

A man and a woman.

They were tied up, beaten to the point that they could barely kneel and had bags over their heads.

Draco watched in silence, his fingers trembling around his omnioculars as he zoomed in on those two people.

For a split second he'd mistaken them for Gemma and Eric, but the moment the bags were lifted from their heads, he realized just how wrong he was.

About it all.

Stumbling backwards, he sped back to his car as fast as he could, knowing now that Yash wasn't just running late.

They'd found him.

And they'd apparently found Anna, too.

His chest clenched at the thought of what happened to her, whether it could have been avoided if he had simply kept an eye on her the other night like he had intended to.

The only part that brought him an ounce of relief, was that they hadn't found Granger.

Not yet.

There was still time.

If he drove fast enough, he was sure he could get to her before they did.  _The Morning Fields_  was a twenty minute drive away.

Far but not terribly far.

In part he felt horrible leaving Yash and especially Anna out there alone, but he first had to make sure Granger was okay.

They had separated for barely fifteen minutes at dinner earlier, and he had nearly lost her.

If it hadn't been for the potion, he never would have known that she was in danger.

Hurriedly climbing into his car and pulling away from the forest, Draco drove as fast as he could, through the dark, winding road ahead. It was only after he'd driven far enough, that a bunch of new text messages vibrated in his pocket.

He glanced down at them, quickly.

_From: Rose_

_Yash isn't here._

_There's blood on the floor._

_It's still wet._

 

With one look, he could see that Granger had sent those messages just five minutes ago, meaning she was more than likely okay. He tried to text back, to call, to urge her to get out of that building before she was found, but it didn't go through.

Either she'd turned her phone off or someone else had turned it off for her.

* * *

There were hundreds of thoughts running through his head at the same time, but the only one that he paid any mind to, was the one that urged him to remain silent.

_Let her do the talking._

At that point she had no idea that he'd recognized her.

He planned on keeping it that way, at least until he could figure out his next move.

Tying her up by the wrists, he directed her through the front door of the hotel, where he'd forced his way inside at the start of the night, and into the car that he had parked along the curb a couple of blocks down.

To his surprise she did nothing to resist.

No kicks, no punches, no threats.

Not even after he'd pocketed her phone.

Instead she complied, walking down the dark, glistening street with him before climbing into the front passenger seat, where he then tied her hands to the door.

Deep down he knew it was risky to bring her along, but the bigger risk was letting her go. For all either of them knew, The Collective was on their way back to  _The Morning Fields_  to finish what they had started.

Caroline Grey may have been quick, fearless and mouthy, but Thomas knew better than anyone, there was very little she could do when the rings were at play.

Her abilities couldn't save her against anti-magic.

In fact the only reason he hadn't pulled the trigger on her, was down to the simple fact that Yash had trusted her.

There was no way she'd have wandered into that room without having been asked there by Yash. She was also on the simpler, more understated side in terms of looks, just as Yash had described.

In the back of his mind, Thomas wondered if his friend had known Caroline's secret all along.

Anna certainly didn't.

Had it not been for the traces of the  _Afterlife_  stamp that he'd seen on the back of Caroline's hand, he never would have suspected a thing.

Suddenly he thought of the night that he had followed Jason Grey on the train.  _Is he one of them, too? Is that why he went after Anna? Because she's connected to me?_ Suffice to say he had a lot to think about, but he knew better than to dive into those topics right anyway.

Not when Caroline was in the passenger seat of his car.

If that was even her real name.

"Where are you taking me?" the brunette abruptly asked, looking directly at Thomas as he pulled away from the curb and onto the main road. "Hello?"

He said nothing, instead opting for silence as he collected his thoughts.

"If you're going to hand me over to Kharon, I would appreciate a heads up at the very least."

Snapping a look at Caroline as if to tell her to be quiet, Thomas tightened his grip on the steering wheel, focusing his efforts on the road if only to keep from saying something he shouldn't have.

On the one hand he had all the power in the situation, but on the other hand he was lost, his mind jumbled in questions that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers to.

Not yet.

"Listen, I know you're scared. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't scared, too …" Caroline offered to him, in a way that sounded almost sincere. "The truth is I'm just as lost as you right now. And maybe I'm wrong, but … you don't strike as the kind of guy who follows orders that he doesn't believe in."

Thomas tensed up, refusing to look at her for even a second. "I know what you're doing."

"What's that?"

"You know exactly what," he snapped. "I may not be trigger happy, but I know an act when I see one."

"You think that what I said was an act?" Caroline asked, a surprised twitch along her eyebrow as she lifted it up. "Believe me, I'd never have told you the truth about what I am if I hadn't felt that I could trust you."

That would have been a good point if not for the fact that she'd realized by then that the makeup on her stamp had faded away.

He'd have figured it out with or without her compliance.

"What do I have to do?" she furthered. "Name your terms."

Slowing at a red light, Thomas looked to her, the mess of thoughts in his head falling silent as he heard something vibrate.

With a quick look around, he realized it was his phone.

He'd left it in the cup holder earlier.

"Shit …" the bouncer muttered under his breath, hurriedly grabbing his phone in his hand as the name  _Kharon_  flashed across the screen in big, bright letters.

Going by the knowing look in Caroline's eyes, she had seen the name. "Aren't you going to take that?" she asked, calmly. "He's your boss, isn't he?"

Thomas pressed his lips into a thin line. "You ask a lot of questions for someone who's tied up."

"I guess you should have taped my mouth shut, too."

Before he was able to respond, his phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message, and this time he noticed that there was also another text message waiting for him. One that had been sent to his phone earlier, shortly after he'd arrived  _The Morning Fields_.

 

_From: Kharon_

_There's an important matter I'd like to discuss._

_If you could stop by my office tonight, I would greatly appreciate it._

 

_From: Anna Hayes_

_Help._

 

For a split second Thomas had no idea what to make of either message. It was only as he allowed Anna's to sink in, that his heart dropped.

"Fuck … fuck!" he shouted, phone clattering down at his feet as he rapidly set aside the panic in his chest and tore through the red light without a second of thought.

Caroline sucked in, bracing herself as they sped down the road, the rumble of the engine growing louder with each second. "Wh-what are you doing? That was a red light!"

At that point he could barely process the words she was saying.

His only concern was Anna.

Since the start, his only concern had been Anna.

Without a word he screeched his car to a halt directly in front of the house, Caroline's eyes wide, questioning as she waited for him to explain.

There was no time to explain.

There was no time to say as a little as one word.

Swiftly climbing out of the car, Thomas ran to the front door of the house as fast as he could, his throat clenching along the collar of his leather jacket as he noticed that the living room window had been smashed in.

He tried not to panic, he tried to keep as calm and as quiet as he could as he entered the house.

There was a chance the attacker was still there.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas softened his steps, slowly making his way through the front door. The lights in the house were off and as he crept through the living room and into the kitchen, he noticed the kitchen table had been pushed about a foot to the left and that the chairs were askew.

He could almost see it.

The way it happened.

Anna had been waiting for him to come home, when suddenly she'd heard something. Either the door or the rumble of a car as it had pulled up in front of the house. At first she thought that he'd come home early, but the second the window was smashed in, she ran to the kitchen in a state of shock, and hid under the table.

It was unclear what had happened to her after that, but Thomas knew by the message that she had sent, that she had at least hoped that he would get there in time.

His eyes stung as he tried to hold it all in, looking through every inch of the house for any sign of his girlfriend before he accepted the fact that she was gone.

Where they'd taken the barista, he had no idea.

All he knew for sure was that the longer he stayed there, the harder it was going to be for him to eventually find her.

He had to get out of there fast.

Before Kharon sent for him.

"What happened?" Caroline asked, as Thomas climbed back into the drivers seat without a word.

For a moment he'd forgotten she was even there. Only as she hit the door with her bundled fist to get his attention, did he look to her.

"Sh-she's gone," he uttered, in quiet disbelief.

"What are you talking about? Who's g —?"

"You know exactly who!" he suddenly shouted, cutting her off mid-sentence as every ounce of restraint swiftly left his body. "Don't you fucking sit there and pretend you don't know who I am or what happened tonight!"

Caroline fell silent, just looking at him now. "I-I honestly don't know what you're getting at, but —"

"Your husband fucked my girlfriend for months," the bouncer interjected. "The second I came to know about it, I found him and everything I could about his life, including the woman that he's married to. If you're going to play dumb and act as though you didn't do the exact same thing, I only ask that you get the fuck out of my car and forget you ever saw me tonight."

There was a quiver of shock along her bottom lip as she tried to think of something to say. "You knew all this time?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you didn't shoot?"

"I don't have an answer to that question right now," Thomas forced out. "They took her. Th-they broke into the house when I wasn't home, and they took her."

Caroline released the breath that she had held in, speaking carefully. "If you untie me, I can help you."

"You're out of your mind if you think I'll ever accept help from a w —"

"Listen to me," she interjected, sharply now. "Right now I'm all you have. Yash is nowhere to be found. Your girlfriend was taken away. It's just us now. You may not trust me, but I promise you, Thomas … I will do everything in my power to help you if you'll just let me."

He refused to give in so easily.

He'd heard so much about their kind.

The things they'd done to non-magical people like him.

The wizarding wars that had claimed countless non-magical lives.

The memories that were taken from them, as though they were playthings.

It was nearly as bad as non-magical history, which to his knowledge had always had two sides.

The longer he sat with Caroline in that car, he couldn't help but wonder as to which side she had belonged to in those wars. Was it the side that had tortured and killed non-magical people for fun or was it the side that had hopefully fought against those atrocities?

"Please," she added, the look in her eyes telling him that there was more to magicals than he had been told. "I-I know a place we can go. A safe place."

If not for the fact that she was right in saying it was just them now, he'd never have done it.

Without saying a word Thomas leaned in and untied her, asking her just one question in the quiet that followed. "Is it .. is it both of you?" he managed, waiting for an answer.

For a moment Caroline said nothing, undoubtedly running through every possible outcome in her head before she finally shoved her worries to the side. "Yes," she nodded. "It's both of us. Jason is a magical just like I am. In fact … those aren't even our real names."

Quietly taken aback, Thomas knew deep down that she had only told him as a show of trust.

If she could trust him with her secret, he could trust her to help him in his time of need.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

Thomas looked to the safe house from the quiet of his car, slowly releasing the steering wheel as Caroline turned to look at him from the front passenger seat, having texted Jason to let him know where they were and to meet them.

Initially the witch had tried to convince him to let her drive, but he had refused. If he was going to put his trust in her kind, he at least had the right to maintain control of his car in case anything went wrong.

"This is the place," she uttered to him, in the quiet after. "You'll be safe here."

Swallowing the knot in his throat, he looked to her. "What about Anna?"

"We'll find her. Believe me, Thomas, I won't rest until she's right here with us."

He believed the brunette, at least enough to know that she meant the words that she was saying. But she had no idea as to the horrors they were all up against. The Collective were more than just a group of bad people in high places.

They were murderers.

"We'll find her," Caroline repeated, sensing the fear and the panic that was tugging at his insides. "Until they've got you in their clutches … they won't touch her. That much we know."

His Adam's apple plunged the length of his throat as he swallowed, hard. "You don't know shit. Trust me on that."

There was a beat of silence after he said that, his words bouncing between them as she looked to him. "I know that we're on the same side. I know that The Collective is likely developing something to wipe my kind from existence … and I know with complete and utter certainty that I'm not going anywhere until I destroy every last one of them using whatever means necessary. Magic, Muggle weapons … my own hands. It doesn't matter."

"Can you shoot?" Thomas inquired, sharply. "For your sake I hope you can, because there's no way your magic is going to help you here. They have enough anti-magic to protect every inch of the city."

She tensed at the sound of that. "Is that what it's called? Anti-magic?"

Slowly he nodded, looking to her with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Have you never heard of it?"

"I can't say I have," she offered, a touch confused going by the twitch of her bottom lip. "I've spent years of my life learning everything I can of the magical world. Not once in that time have I ever come across anything quite like anti-magic."

Reaching into the backseat of the car, Thomas extracted the journal that he'd stolen earlier in the night.

"Here," he stated plainly, handing the journal to Caroline. "You'll find everything that you need to know right here in this journal."

She glanced down at it, quietly shocked. "This is yours?"

"No, I ... I swiped it from Kharon's office. He's had it for a long time, but it once belonged to someone called … someone called Psyche."

Simply blinking at him, she fell silent at the sound of that name, the look in her eyes saying what her lips couldn't.

"You've heard that name before," the bouncer gathered, earning a nod from the witch. "Where?"

The smallest trace of reluctance rippled through her eyes before she said it. "Yash mentioned that name to me when we last spoke."

"Of course he did. He was never good at keeping his mouth shut."

"To be fair he didn't say much. Only that Psyche is important to Kharon in some way."

"That's an interesting way to put it," the bouncer snorted. "I guess there's no point in hiding anything now. Kharon and … and Psyche have a lot of history. They grew up together."

Her eyebrows flicked up in response. "You mean to say they're friends?"

"They were more than friends the last time I checked, but they had a falling out," he explained. "No one really knows what happened. Half of us thought he'd done away with her in an argument, but … but then she turned up on the warehouse security cameras a month ago."

"Right," Caroline nodded, thinking back to the photograph that she had seen at  _The Morning Fields_. The one that Yash had tacked to the wall with all the others.

For a split second she opened her mouth as if to say something more, but she hesitated, instead typing something on her phone.

Thomas quietly observed, leaning over just an inch to get a look at what the brunette had typed, only to pull back as she swiftly and consciously tilted her phone out of his line of sight.

"Do you normally look through phones and journals that don't belong to you?" she asked, unperturbed if not for the twitch of her bottom lip.

For a moment he said nothing, he simply looked to her calmly. "Only when I know people are keeping secrets from me."

She tucked her phone away, unbuckling her seatbelt after. "Well, I've already told you my deepest secret. For now that should do."

"Where are you going?" Thomas asked, following her with his eyes.

"Inside," she uttered, climbing out of the car and nodding for him to follow. "Come."

* * *

The basement was dark, cold.

In those first few moments the guards had left them alone. They had simply stood at the door and kept watch on them, silently.

It was only after Ian walked in and ordered the guards to _get started_  that the silence was broken.

Tears streaming down her face, Anna watched in horror as the guards beat the daylights out of Yash in front of her eyes, her cries muffled against the tape they'd smacked over her mouth.

 _Stop that! You're going to kill him! Please! J-just … just stop,_  she wanted to say, her cries growing so loud they vibrated through every inch of her body as Ian held her back.

Her hands were tied behind her back, her mouth was taped shut and her face was spattered in Yash's blood as one of the guards kicked him squarely in the face, sending him flying.

For a split second she made eye contact with him, the kind bartender that she had met at  _Afterlife_ , utterly unrecognizable at this point.

One more blow and he'd never recover.

Using whatever strength she had left, Anna snaked her way out of Ian's clutches and fell forward, frantically covering Yash's body with her own as one of the guards delivered another kick.

This time she absorbed it, choking on her breath as the toe of the guard's boot connected swiftly with her stomach.

It was the most pain she'd ever felt in her life.

And it was quickly met with another blow.

Ian grabbed her by her collar, lifting her so high, her feet were dangling at least a foot above the old, dirt ridden floor, and just as she'd managed to collect her breath after the kick, he opened his palm and slapped her tightly across the face.

Were it not for the tape, she'd have shouted so loud, the light fixtures high up above would have shattered to pieces.

Seconds later he released her, and she crumpled to the floor, panting. No matter how much pain she was in, it was Yash that she was most worried about. Once the guards had left, the echo of their boots fading into the distance as they locked the door behind them on their way out, Anna turned to the bartender, shifting closer to him in the darkness of the basement to check if he was still hanging on.

To her relief he was breathing, slowly but heavily, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Rubbing her mouth against her shoulder, she managed to get the tape off just enough, her lips cut up and cracked.

"I … I'll get us out of here," she said to him, heart pounding violently inside her ribcage as she tried to relax, to be strong enough for both of them. "I promise."

* * *

Draco sped through the streets, navigating through the city and onto the dark, winding mountain road on his way to the safe house.

Within moments he was utterly alone on the road, not one car in sight apart from his own.

The city lights faded deep into the background as he kept at it, the text messages that he and Granger had exchanged, resting heavily in his chest.

_From: Rose_

_Sorry for not replying sooner._

_I'm okay._

_It's a long story._

_I'll explain as soon as I can._

_Meet me at the safe house._

_From: Liam_

_That safe house?_

_How did you get all the way there?_

_From: Rose_

_Thomas._

At that point Draco's throat had clenched, hard.

_From: Rose_

_Like I said, it's a long story._

_Just know that he's on our side._

Within seconds he had thought of Anna, suddenly having realized why it was The Collective had dragged her to the warehouse.

_From: Liam_

_They have Anna._

_I saw her and Yash outside of the warehouse._

_Tied up, beaten and with bags over their heads._

_From: Rose_

_Fuck._

_Thomas isn't going to like the sound of that._

_From: Liam_

_You're sure he's on our side?_

_From: Rose_

_They've got his girlfriend tied up, beaten and with a bag_ _over her head._

_I've never been more sure that someone is on our side._

_From: Liam_

_Okay._

_Good point._

_I'll be there._

_From: Rose_

_Be safe._

There were countless running through his mind, grappling at his insides as he tried to get back to the safe house as fast as he could.

Suddenly his phone came to life again, the words on the screen flashing within the darkness of his car as he glanced down for just a moment to look at the message.

_From: Unknown_

_Hold tight._

His face screwed in response, and for a moment he just stared down the message, confused as to who had sent it and what it meant. It was only as he glanced back up again, shifting his attention onto the road, that every ounce of confusion escaped his body.

Out of nowhere a Jack Russell Terrier emerged from the side of the road, the lights from the car reflected along the surface of the small dog's eyes as it stopped directly in Draco's path.

_Sparky._

With only a second to react, the wizard swerved sharply to the side, narrowly missing the dog and holding the steering wheel as tightly as he could as the car suddenly flipped and slammed loudly against the road with him inside.

The silence that followed was deafening, penetrated only by the soft, night winds as they came rippling in through the shattered windows.

Slowly he opened his eyes, the entire right side of the car flattened and a cloud of smoke emerging from the bottom.

He could hardly remember what happened, just the impact and the feeling of it along his body as he undid his seatbelt and climbed out, through the pool of glass and the pieces that had broken off of car, in the moments after.

Going by the pain in his right leg, it was badly hurt.

A few times he tried to stand, but he couldn't hold himself up for more than a second. Crumpling down to the wet, glistening pavement, he rolled onto his back, sucking in deeply as he glanced up at the skies. His eyes were heavy, his wand was broken and digging into his side, and his clothes were torn, covered in blood and dirt.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, the last thing he remembered before the world faded to black, was the sound of footsteps coming towards him.

Hard and heavy footsteps, followed by the outline of someone he'd never met before.

"I've been meaning to speak with you, Professor Grey …"

* * *

Hermione fixed a look through the window, an uncomfortable feeling settling deep into the pit of her stomach.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Thomas uttered from the couch, a knowing glimmer in his eyes as he took apart his weapon and meticulously cleaned the pieces before clicking and sliding them back in place.

Setting aside the mixed feelings in her chest, Hermione turned around, looking to the bouncer.

"He's not actually your husband, is he?"

She fell silent, her lips peeling apart in the seconds after. "What makes you say that?" Proceeding towards the coffee table, she grabbed the journal and took a seat.

"Everything I thought I knew about you guys has turned out to be a bunch of bullshit. Your jobs, your names, your non-magical blood …" he explained, flicking a look at her afterwards, calmly. "It only makes sense that your marriage is bullshit, too."

There was a slight tug in her chest as she contemplated whether it was a good idea to tell him the full truth. Merlin knew she could have used someone to talk to. Someone who wasn't Malfoy … but she couldn't afford to waste time. Not when Yash and Anna needed their help.

With a deep breath, Hermione ignored the bouncer's curious looks, instead glancing down at the journal in her hands.

If there was one thing in the world that she knew would take her mind off of things, it was reading.

Turning to the first page of the journal, she fell deep into the words.

_20th August, 1995_

_I hate it here._

_The food, the people, the way they all look at me when I tell them my name._

_It's not enough that I was born different from the rest of my family. They just had to send me here on top of everything._

_If it wasn't for Kharon, I probably would have run off by now. Sometimes I wonder why he even gives me the time of day. Everyone here loves him. The professors, the students, the people who live in the town nearby. I guess I can't really blame them. What's not to love about him? Apart from the fact that he calls himself Kharon and spends all his time reading up on worlds that don't exist. Seriously, how could a guy with an ass like his, spend so much time in the library? I guess it's kind of cute that he's into all of that, but … sometimes I just want him to grab me and stick his tongue down my throat._

_Is that weird? Probably._

_I wonder what he would say if I told him the truth about me._

_Where I come from, why my family sent me away, what I am._

_He's just a normal guy._

_If I ever told him there's a world out there where people fly on brooms and mix potions and wave wands around, he would probably just tell me that I'm crazy. It's not like I can prove it anyway. I might as well be as oblivious as he is. In fact I wish I was. I always have. The worst part of all of this is that I know it's out there … I just can't do any of it myself._

_Apparently it runs in the family._

_My mother had an aunt who was a squib as well. Gemma Clarke. I don't know much about her, only that she didn't take shit from anyone. She was dragged out of her private research facility by a group of Aurors when they found out she was looking into blood magic, and locked up for the rest of her life, but her journals and findings are still hidden somewhere._

_If I ever manage to leave this place, I'll go back to the old house and I'll find everything she left behind._

_Maybe one day I'll even continue her work._

_Maybe._

_Signed,_

_Psyche._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve:**

The skies were grey that night, not a trace of warmth in the clouds or in the pale blue of his eyes as he took one long, hard look at himself along the still waters of the lake. In just eight weeks, he appeared to have aged ten years. His hair was thick and tangled, his eyes were tired and his lips were cracked and cradled by patches of a prickly and unwashed beard.

He hardly recognized himself, though he supposed that was a good thing given where he was and how he had ended up there. Swallowing firmly, he retrieved his wand from the back pocket of his jeans and grabbed a matted tuft of hair, closing his eyes for just one second as he murmured a spell to cut it. Piece by piece he kept at it, cutting away at the overgrown, tangled bits of hair that he had neglected for the past eight weeks, and then at the beard that had sprouted all the way down his throat.

Only as the last tuft of wiry hair had fallen to his feet, did he stop and look at himself again and see a glimmer of the man he was when he had agreed to the mission. Had he known at the start, the severity of the task at hand and the two people with whom he was going to cross paths when he least expected it, he might have chosen differently the day Kingsley came knocking.

Slowly he stepped away from the lake, wiping the loose hairs from his face and neck before then vanishing into the trees in the distance and making his way back to the campsite. There he found a young, pale-haired wizard sitting in front of the campfire, poking at it with a twig, behind him a small, forest green Muggle tent.

"Took you long enough," the young wizard said to him with a yawn, without once looking away from the campfire. "Grey's nearly awake."

Glancing in the direction of the tent, the older of the two had only one thing to say after weeks of living in complete silence. "Malfoy," he uttered, speaking that name as if not a day had gone by since they were school children, exchanging insults with each other in Potions class. "His name is Malfoy."

* * *

_Where are you_?

Hermione hugged her blanket tighter, the winds outside of the cabin picking up as she waited on the front steps. For hours she had sat there, keeping an eye out for the glow of headlights, her left hand stained in Floo Powder from when she had tried to contact Kingsley earlier, through Head-Only Transport, to inform him that one of the two Aurors he had sent on this undercover mission, was unaccounted for.

As it happened, there was a disturbance in the Floo Network.

A blockage the likes of which Hermione had never before encountered.

Biting down anxiously on her bottom lip, she hardly noticed it when the cabin door creaked open behind her, Thomas quietly finding her side with two cups of coffee in hand.

"How long have you been sitting out here?" he asked, breaking the witch's train of thought.

Only then did she glance away from the trees, nodding to the bouncer in thanks as he handed her one of the cups, whilst also making room for him on the topmost step. She had always been more of a tea person, but it was cold enough outside that she'd have settled for anything even slightly warm.

"Just a couple of hours," she answered, after her first sip. "How did you sleep?"

He shrugged at that. "About as well as you did."

Looking to the bouncer, Hermione noticed the same traces of worry in his eyes that she had seen in her own, along the unlit surface of her phone. There were a few times earlier when she thought she had felt it vibrate, only to realize that her hands were shaking. In fact her entire body was so tense, she could hardly blink without putting forth a conscious effort.

"He's not coming back, is he?" Thomas inquired, gently but knowingly all the same.

Hermione downed a mouthful of her coffee as if it were firewhiskey, allowing the warmth of it to travel down her throat as she sunk deeper into the anxious feelings inside her chest. "We've got to push forward," she uttered, as if to remind herself more than anyone else. "With or without my partner."

For a split second Thomas glanced to her, uncertainty tugging at the corners of his lips before he finally asked. "I take it you guys are here on assignment?"

With only a nod, the brunette finished off the rest of her coffee and placed the cup down. "We're Aurors," she explained, after only a moment of thought. "Magical law enforcement."

"Do you normally wait out in the cold for any random Auror that you happen to work with?"

She glanced to him from the side, knowing quite well what he was getting at, and also that she had no intention of confirming his suspicions. "Get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes."

"Where?"

Rising to her feet, she bundled the blanket up in her arms. "We'll start by retracing my partner's steps."

Thomas got up, holding the door open as they made their way inside. "And then?"

"And then," Hermione repeated, grabbing Psyche's journal from the coffee table and tucking it in her back pocket, safely. "We're going to pay my old neighbours, a visit."

* * *

There was a time when he was sixteen when he had nearly thrown everything away. His beliefs, his history, his ties to everything that he had once stood for. The world as he knew it had slowly become a cold and dark and unforgivable place, and he had decided one lonely night that he had finally had enough of it.

_"Draco, dear, you haven't touched your dinner."_

_Blinking up at his mother from across the dinner table, Draco tried not to show it in his face, how empty he'd felt the past few days. He suspected she knew why, though she'd neglected to utter a word about it for his sake. In large part he would have preferred that she speak her mind, but she had never quite learned how to do that. If there was one thing that he had always hated about his mother, it was her inability to stand up for herself, or for him when he needed it._

_What he didn't need was the act that she had put on in order to maintain some shred of normality in a house that was bereft of it._

_"I'm going out," Draco decided, setting his fork and knife down loudly, his dinner untouched._

_Stunned for a moment, Narcissa quickly stood from her chair, traces of worry in her eyes. "Y-you can't. It's too dangerous, Draco."_

_"What? Are you worried a Death Eater will come find me on a dark street corner?" he laughed in a biting, humourless manner. "Oh, that's right! I am one, and so you are, and so is father!"_

_His mother swallowed the lump in her throat, hurriedly finding his side as he sped toward one of the side doors to avoid the guards. "Draco, please wait. I-I know you're frightened, my dear. I'm frightened, too. I just —"_

_"You're so deeply frightened, you had no choice but to stand there and watch them brand me like a dog!" he interjected, swiftly facing the older witch to find that she had tears in her eyes. He felt a twitch of guilt in his gut, but he suppressed it, instead rolling his sleeve up to reveal the one part of this entire ordeal that broke his heart every time he looked at it._

_With one glance at The Dark Mark on her sixteen-year-old boy's arm, embedded so deeply into his skin, he may as well have been born with it, Narcissa couldn't bear it. "I'm sorry I failed you, Draco. I was only trying to protect you, but in doing so I've pushed you further into harms way," she uttered to him, tears streaming down her face._

_"How could you let them?" he maintained, whispering now as he suddenly felt the sting of fresh, warm tears along his own eyes. "This isn't my war to fight."_

_She could hardly see his face anymore, her vision blurred by the emotion she'd held in for too long. "I know that, Draco. I will do everything in my power to protect you. Do you understand? I-I won't let them do to you what they did to your father and your Aunt Bellatrix."_

_Narrowing his eyes at her as a single tear slid down his cheek, Draco swallowed, heavily. "When are you going to realize The Order aren't the ones we need protecting from?"_

_"Draco, please for one moment just listen to —"_

_"No!" he shouted, yanking his arm away as she reached out. "Don't touch me! You're the reason I was forced to sign my life away to that — that —!"_

_Rapidly and without sparing another moment, Narcissa lunged forward and smacked a hand over her son's mouth before he could utter the rest, holding tightly as his tears slid down her fingers in quick succession._

_"You will not utter that name," she said to him at once, quietly but firmly. "Everything I've done, I've done to protect you. They'd have done far worse to you had I stepped in. You know that."_

_He did know that._

_He just didn't want to believe it._

_Only then, as the fight in his muscles died down, did she release him._

_He gulped, his Adam's apple plunging the length of his throat as he looked to his mother. "Potter and his friends —"_

_"Harry Potter and his friends have a privilege in this world that you don't," she interjected. "They were born on the right side of this war, but you, my sweet Draco, were not. I could have stepped in. I-I could have thrown myself in front of you before they'd so much as grazed a hair on your head … but I didn't because the thing about us, Draco … the thing about Malfoy's is that we survive. We dig our heels into the ground and we create our own side, our own path that we follow as one."_

_At the sound of that, he tensed. "You're saying …"_

_"I'm saying the only side we're on is our own," she stated, speaking clearly as she looked to her only child, the worry in her eyes making way for a stronger, much deeper emotion. For the first time, strength. "Survive, Draco. That's all you can hope for this in world."_

_His chest tightened in his robes as he allowed those words to sink in._

_Survive._

The air was thick and cold.

His surroundings were dark, the distant glow of a fireplace — no, a campfire — burning softly in the background as he tiredly blinked his eyes awake. Bandaged, medicated and tied at the wrists and feet. Slowly it crept up on him, the memory of the crash. The broken shards of glass that had scraped his hands and knees as he crawled out of the wreckage and fell to the wet pavement, the swift and violent unraveling of his mind and body on that dark, forest road.

It all came back to him at once.

His senses urged him to escape, but the bindings around his arms and legs only seemed to tighten the more he struggled against them.

Only as he turned his head to the side, panting for breath now, did he realize he was in a tent of some sort. A Muggle tent judging by the small size and the forest green entrance flaps rippling in the breeze.

Fighting to stay conscious, he focused one blurred look through the gap between the entrance flaps, taking immediate notice of the two people by the campfire. Both of them tall, hooded and distinguishably male. One of them was slightly broader than the other, and appeared to be caught in a state of uncertainty as the other looked on, noticeably calmer and more sure of whatever they had agreed to.

They exchanged a few hushed but heated words, the last of which grappled at Draco's chest as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

_Hermione._

He didn't know which of them had said it, only that the broader one had vanished in the seconds after, his robes crumpling to the ground as he scurried off into the faint glow of the morning sky, in the shape of a much smaller creature.

Then and only then, did the other one shift his gaze to the tent, slowly but surely coming towards it.

Although Draco's first instinct was to run, he knew there was no hope of that. Not in his current state. Instead he held his breath, drops of sweat clinging to the ends of his hair as the same face that he had seen during his last few seconds of consciousness on the forest road, emerged from between the rippling tent flaps.

This time there was no mistaking it.

"Y-you," he choked out, his throat dry and his voice tired, scratchy.

Without a word the pale-haired young man from the articles, the one whose face had been burned into the back of Draco's mind from the moment he'd heard of the assault that had taken place at  _Afterlife_ , lowered his hood and entered the tent, extracting a vial of potion from his back pocket.

According to the articles, his name was Donovan White, and he was a third-year Muggle student at the university where Jason Grey had happened to teach business for the past five months, but there was something about the cloak, the vial and the outline of the wand in Donovan's pocket, which led Draco to believe that he and his partner weren't the only ones who had been living in a state of secrecy along those city streets.

"Here," Donovan uttered to the older wizard, breaking his train of thought as he handed him the vial. "It's only Invigoration Draught. You have my word."

Swallowing the dryness in the back of his throat, Draco took one look at the potion, noting both the colour of the liquid and softness of it as a clear sign that it was in fact, Invigoration Draught. Why in Merlin's name Donovan was giving him an energizing potion after nearly killing him on the road, Draco had no idea.

He simply nodded in thanks as Donovan untied his bindings, taking the vial into his hands in the moments that followed, before slowly and shakily tilting it back between his lips.

Within seconds the magic spread through every inch of his body, rendering him wide awake as he then sat up and looked Donovan dead in the eyes.

"Who are you?" Draco firmly asked, without sparing another moment.

Briefly looking to the Auror as if trying to decide whether he could be trusted, Donovan took one deep breath before he uttered a response. "Corvus," he introduced, allowing that to sink in before he said the rest. "I believe you've met my sister ... Psyche."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen:**

"You'll need your strength for today," Corvus announced, scooping out three bowls of soup from the pot atop the campfire.

The clouds had separated a little that morning, bringing light to the clearing as Draco slowly but surely climbed out of the tent. Still bruised and bandaged from the crash, he squeezed his mouth closed to keep from wincing too loudly. Only as he made his way to one of the foldout chairs by the campfire, did the tension in his muscles taper away.

Releasing a deep breath, he sat down, wiping the sweat from his forehead before fixing one hard look at Corvus as he came around with one of the bowls, handing one to him.

"Do you really expect me to eat this?" Draco asked, his eyes narrow and questioning.

Without a word Corvus dug into his bowl, downing three mouthfuls before he'd even bothered to glance in Draco's direction. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done so by now," he stated. "Eat."

There was a twitch of protest in the back of Draco's throat, but it quickly went away as he uttered his next words, placing his bowl down. "What did they do to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," he furthered, earning a sharp look from the young man. "They took away your magic, didn't they?"

Tightening his grip around his bowl, Corvus stilled, the hiss and crackle of the campfire filling in the long gap of silence that swiftly followed.

"Tell me one thing," Draco said to him, tasting blood in the back of his throat. "Was it because of her, Corvus? Was your sister the one who got you into this mess?"

"You have no  _idea_  what you're talking about."

"So, why don't you give me an idea?"

Snapping a look at him from across the campfire, Corvus set his empty bowl down on the ground and walked right over, twisting his mouth into a smirk as Draco got up. "I wouldn't ask questions if I were you," he advised, firmly. "A wizard like you wouldn't like the answers anyway."

Draco snorted at that, unbothered. "A wizard like me?"

"A wizard like you," Corvus nodded, a knowing glimmer in his eyes as he narrowed them into a glare. "I know what your people did during the war. I know what  _you_  did … the number of men, women and children whose families were torn apart by your … beliefs."

There was a tightness in Draco's chest at the sound of that, but he didn't show it in his face. "You know absolutely nothing about me. That much I can assure you."

"You've got his Mark on your arm. That's all I need to know."

"Then do something about it."

Releasing a swift, humourless laugh, Corvus folded his arms. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?" he asked. "None of this would be happening if it weren't for wizards like you."

Draco tensed. "Like I said, you know absolutely nothing about me."

"Right, right. You've changed, haven't you?" Corvus added, as if he'd never heard something so ridiculous in his life. "It's easy for you to put it all in the past, but what about everyone else? All of those people … those  _children_  who lost their parents in a war that  _they_  didn't sign up for?" he bit out, the humour in his voice having completely vanished. "What about them?"

Falling silent at the sound of that, Draco had a feeling that Corvus wasn't simply speaking up for those children out of the kindness of his heart. "You can't have been more than nine … ten years old at the time," he gathered. "Isn't that right?"

Corvus uttered no word of response, his Adam's apple simply plunging the length of his throat as he swallowed.

"Whatever you went through … I'm sorry," Draco offered to him, staring the young man straight in the eyes only to find traces of the scared young boy who had lost everything. "By the looks of things, we've got more in common than either of us would probably care to admit."

"He's right," someone interjected from about ten steps behind, their voice rough and familiar and distinguishably male.

Corvus glanced over Draco's shoulder, the rigidity in his expression rippling away. "Merlin's shit … took you long enough," he chided, nudging past as he made his way over to his friend, the one he had been arguing with earlier by the campfire. "What happened out there? Did you find it? Have you got it on you right now?"

There was a beat of silence after he had asked, during which time Draco had turned around to see what all the fuss was about.

Only then did he glance over, his eyes growing so wide so fast, it was a miracle they stayed in place.

"Weasley?"

* * *

"We should head back to the car," Thomas repeated for the tenth time, breaking Hermione's train of thought as she forged onward, searching for any sign of her partner along the forest road. "It's light out. We're too close to the warehouse to be walking around out in the open like this. If any of Kharon's guys finds us, then you better hope they lock us away because the other option isn't so —"

Her heart quickened the second she saw it. "There! Over there!"

Breaking off mid-sentence, Thomas followed her line of sight. "What am I looking for?"

"There!" Hermione blurted again, racing over to the tire marks and the pieces of glass just ahead.

Without another word she knelt down, examining the direction of the marks and the thickness of the glass. "There was a crash," she uttered, putting voice to her thoughts as they came to her. "On this road … right here …"

Kneeling down a few feet away, Thomas took one good look at the tire marks. "Looks like it was just one car," he offered. "They must have fallen asleep behind the wheel."

Chest clenching at the thought, Hermione shook her head. "No," she decided, brushing her knees as she stood. "Malfoy's too careful of a driver to have fallen asleep on the road."

"Malfoy?"

Only then did she remember, facing the bouncer as he rose his feet. "Sorry, I … I keep forgetting that you're not one of us," she explained. "His real name is Draco Malfoy. My partner. And I'm Hermione Granger."

Thomas lifted an eyebrow at her in response. "Do you all have fucked up names or is it just you two?"

"You were the one who chose to work for a man called Kharon," the brunette reminded him. "Oh and for what it's worth, I was born into a nonmagical family, so there goes your assumption."

"So, your parents just hated you then?"

She glared at the bouncer as he found her side, laughter tugging at his lips. "Do you really think now is the time to be making jokes? Your girlfriend and best friend have been captured by The Collective and my partner is nowhere to be found. For all we know they've got him, too."

Without so much as a flinch, Thomas nodded to the tire marks. "Those are leading away from the warehouse, which means —"

"There's a chance he made it out."

"A small chance, but still a chance," he said to her, reassuringly. "If they had him, there would be no question about it. We would know. They'd have tried to use him to get to you. I was contacted the moment they got their hands on Anna."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip, in thought. "Maybe they're not the ones that have him."

"You're suggesting —"

"Psyche," she finished, locking eyes with the bouncer. "We've got to find him. If … if I'm right, there's no telling what Psyche will do to him."

Thomas steadied at the thought, nodding once. "We'll head out tonight. When it's dark."

"When it's dark?" Hermione repeated, as though she hoped he was joking. "There's no time. The longer we leave him there, the harder it's going to be to get him back."

"We can't just kick the front door open without a plan. What if you're wrong and he's not there?" the bouncer furthered, looking her straight in the eyes. "I know you're worried. I'm worried, too. But your partner isn't the only one whose life is on the line."

Parting her lips in protest, her efforts were cut short as he uttered his next words.

"I need to know that you can handle yourself out there. You may be a decorated soldier … Auror … whatever it's called in your world, but you're in Kharon's world now," he went on to say. "I-I wasn't going to tell you before, because I didn't know if I could trust you, but … now that we're stuck with each other … you should know that the first part of his plan is already in motion."

Hermione tensed, knowing by the look in the bouncer's eyes that he'd been holding onto a secret that was bigger than anything that she could possibly have imagined.

"By next week, The Collective will have worked anti-magic into every corner of the world … the water supply, the food … maybe even the air if Michael Glass is as powerful as he claims."

"Y-you're joking," she choked out, looking to him in equal parts shock, fear and disbelief. "It … that's not possible. He can't do that. The Collective can't do that."

"They can and they will."

There was a beat of silence after, wherein Thomas kept an eye on the brunette, his words sinking deep inside her chest like a set of daggers.

"Like I said," he uttered, after a moment of silence. "For your sake, I hope you can shoot. Psyche is the least of our worries. In fact she may be the answer."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen:**

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, his wrists bound and the cut along his forehead having torn open as he struggled to keep up on the hike, a trail of red down the left side of his face.

Without a word Weasley forged onward, leading the way through the forest as Corvus kept to the back, nudging Draco forward whenever he began to slow. For hours they hiked, taking no breaks and sparing no time. Only as they reached the edge of what appeared to be some sort of cliff, the waters below crashing angrily against the rocks, did they stop.

Draco peered over the edge, the lump in his throat weighing heavily against his breath as he then swallowed it. "I don't suppose we're going for a swim, are we?"

Sparing nothing but a sharp look, Weasley reached in his pocket, retrieving a knife which he then used to cut through Draco's bindings.

"I was beginning to wonder what side you were on," he said to Weasley, only half joking. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here anyway? I thought you left the Auror Office to work at your brother's joke shop."

Shrugging off and unzipping the hiking bag that he had been carrying on his shoulders the whole way, Corvus suddenly glanced between the two older wizard, a surprised flicker in his eyes. "Do you guys know each other or something?"

Draco couldn't help but laugh at that, glancing to Weasley after. "Have you not told him who you are?"

"I've told him enough. Now shut your mouth before I kindly shut it for you."

"That's big talk for a little Jack Russell Terrier."

Weasley flinched at the sound of that, snapping a look at Draco as if to ask him how he knew.

"I saw you transfigure earlier," Draco explained. "Just as I had started to wake."

"You saw nothing. Do you understand?"

"One question," he furthered, earning a seething look from the Gryffindor. "Does Granger know that you're an unregistered animagus? More importantly, does she know that you've been living under the same roof as the woman who tried to kill her last night? Does anyone?"

Corvus blinked up at them in shock, his fingers tightening around the climbing rope that he had pulled out from his bag. "Wh-what did you just say?" he asked. "My sister tried to kill someone? Psyche tried to kill someone?"

"Not unless she also happens to go by the name of Gemma," Draco clarified, connecting the dots only as the last word had escaped his mouth. "Merlin …"

Grabbing hold of the rope, Weasley pieced together the last of the climbing equipment, shoving a harness at Draco. "Now that you're caught up on all the drama, put this on and watch your step," he advised. "We've got a long way down before we reach the cave."

"The cave?" Draco repeatedly, hesitantly taking the harness in his hands as Weasley fastened his own. "What cave? What are you on about? Granger's out there on her own. She needs us."

Briefly stopping at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name, Weasley swallowed the rush of doubt in his throat and carried on, nudging past Draco and muttering something to him as he made his way to the edge. "Why do you think I'm here?"

* * *

Hermione opened the journal, turning to the next page as Thomas drove into the city in silence.

_25th June, 1996_

_I can't sleep._

_People are saying he's back. Voldemort. I don't know if it's true, but I do know that my kind will be the first to go if he picks up where he left off all those years ago. To wizards like him, there's no difference between squibs and non-magical people._

_Sometimes I wonder if my parents feel the same. They haven't said a word to me since I was kicked out of school. I tried writing to Corvus a couple of days ago for his birthday, but the letter was delivered right back to me, unopened. For all I know he never saw it. I can't believe he's so big now. Pretty soon he'll be starting his first term at Ilvermorny. I wish I could be there for him, see him grow. I guess our parents don't want that._

_That being me._

_Kharon's all I have now._

_I'm staying with him at the moment, but I don't know for how long._

_We had sex for the first time a couple of weeks ago. He said he loved me. It was so strange to me hearing those words. No one has ever said them to me before. I wonder if he would still love me if he knew the truth about me … the world I come from._

_His parents are coming back from their trip in two days. I'll probably have to find my own place to stay before they get here._

_Maybe it's time to go to the old house, look for the journals that my mother's aunt had left behind before the Aurors took her away._

_I've waited long enough._

_This shit isn't going to get any easier._

_The world isn't going to change unless I make it change._

_Signed,_

_Psyche._

With a deep breath, Hermione closed the journal, her stomach knotting up. "I feel sorry for her."

"Who?" Thomas asked, slowing his car to a stop at a red light.

"Psyche."

He glanced to her, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You shouldn't. This is all because of her. Kharon wouldn't know shit if she hadn't introduced him to magic."

"She's hurt," Hermione countered, firmly. "Her parents were horrible to her growing up. They … they hid her away … made her feel unwanted … broke her to pieces when she needed them most …"

"Most horrible people come from horrible homes," Thomas stated, as though he knew better than anyone. "That doesn't mean we should feel sorry for them. We all have the choice to be good … Psyche chose differently a long time ago."

"She's doing this because she's hurt. Believe me."

"Even if you're right, what does it matter?"

"It matters more than you know," Hermione inserted, releasing a deep breath. "All those talks we had … the pain in her voice … it was real. She wasn't pretending. Not completely."

"I don't see how that's important. I mean, fuck. She tried to kill you last night, didn't she?"

"I represent what she could have been. What her parents wanted her to be."

Thomas scrunched his lips into a deep frown. "It's going to take a lot more than just a hug to get through to her if that's what you're thinking."

"Maybe," Hermione offered, fixing a look through the window as the wheels in her mind started turning. "My ex-boyfriend said the same to me years ago, about someone else."

"How did that turn out?"

Forcing her eyes closed, she thought back to that exact day. The moment in which she had stood in front of the entire Wizengamot and vouched for the last person who deserved her kindness. At the time she had simply felt that it was the right thing to do, but after everything that she'd been through in the past few days alone, she truly believed it.

"I don't speak to my ex-boyfriend anymore," she uttered, after a moment more of silence.

Thomas bounced a look at her, redirecting his attention to the road as he continued driving. "And the other person?"

Glancing down at her phone, Hermione scrolled through those last few messages yet again. Only as she looked away from it in the seconds after, did she feel it vibrate in the palm of her hand for the first time in hours.

There was a new message.

A voice message from an unknown number.

Her chest clenched the second she heard his voice.

" _Granger, it's me. Draco. I … I can't even begin to explain what happened last night. My phone is gone and the car is … well, the car is gone, too. Meet me at the safe house tonight. I … we … just be safe. Please_."

Without a word Thomas looked to her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen:**

"I don't s-suppose we could have f-flown down on b-brooms," Draco choked out, keeping still as he accidentally glanced down, the frigid northwestern waters crashing angrily the rocks hundreds of feet below.

To his left, Weasley remained calm and focused, the soles of his boots scratching against the face of the cliff as he slowly but surely rappelled down towards to the cave. "With ideas like that, it's a miracle you've not snatched Kingsley's job right out from under him," the animagus remarked, earning a sharp glare from his climbing partner. "Come on then. Exactly how I showed you."

Swallowing the anxious lump in the back of his throat, Draco closed his eyes for only a moment, doing what little he could to relax the nerves in his chest cavity as he tried to refocus. "Breathe," he uttered to himself, quietly. "The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can … the sooner you can …"

"Do you want to know something?" Weasley cut in all of a sudden, from about ten feet below. "I was always jealous of you in school."

Draco tensed, barely having rappelled an inch in those couple of seconds. "Bit distracted at the moment. Would you mind saving the campfire talk for when we're  _not_  hanging off of the side of a  _fucking_   _cliff_?"

Sparing a moment to rappel a few more feet, Weasley carried on, unbothered. "It wasn't so much your wealth as it was your intellect," he detailed, earning a quick, bewildered look from the other wizard. "You were as diligent and as studious as Hermione and I hated you for it."

With a quick breath, Draco lost his footing for a couple of seconds, uttering the only thought that had entered his mind as he regained control. "If you're trying to distract me, it's not working," he forced out. "I was only good in Potions in case you don't remember."

"You were second in our year."

Only then did it hit him. "Right. Granger was first."

"She was jealous of you as well from what I recall," Weasley added, briefly falling silent as both he and Draco continued to make their way down. "There was one night at Three Broomsticks … around fifth or sixth year, I believe … when she had accidentally downed a mouthful firewhiskey that someone had left around on one of the tables," he explained. "She went on about you for … well, for hours, really. About how frustrating it was that everything came so easily to you."

Slowly having found his rhythm, Draco couldn't help but stop for a moment as he had heard that. "Is that right?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I hated you that much more once it was over."

"You do realize you had always had the option of  _trying_  in school, don't you?"

Weasley smirked at that. "I s'pose I wasn't jealous enough."

"I suppose so," Draco offered, glancing up in the seconds after to see that he had rappelled so far down, he could no longer see the edge of the cliff, let alone Corvus observing from overtop. "So, about Psyche's brother …"

"What of him?"

"How do we know we can trust the twitchy bloke?"

"Simple," Weasley began, picking up the pace as they inched closer to the cave. "If it weren't for that twitchy bloke, I'd have been drained of my magic and left for dead in that house."

Draco stilled at the sound of that. "I take it that means you weren't there by choice?"

There was a trace of panic in Weasley's eyes, at just the memory. "It's a long story," he then said, blinking the panic away. "All you need to know is that Psyche is a squib and that she's developed a way to … to extract magic from people."

Connecting the dots as they came to him, Draco nearly lost his grip. "Y-you mean to say that she was using your magic against your will?"

"Like I said," Weasley stated, firmly planting his feet on the ground as he reached the entrance to the cave. "It's a long story."

Only as Draco joined him, did he spot the markings along Weasley's neck. The darkened bruises in the shape of a necklace of some sort.

 _No,_ he thought, in the quiet of his mind.  _Not a necklace. A collar._

* * *

Hermione tensed as they reached the corner of the street, the old Grey house in clear view. It had only been a day, yet somehow she felt worlds apart from her life as Caroline Grey. The bookshop and the house and the nearby shops that she had used to pop into after work in search of milk and dish soap and other everyday essentials that had felt so meaningless at the time.

Closing her eyes a moment, she thought back to a night from a few months ago. The first night in which Caroline and Jason Grey had found common ground in their new life together.

 _Stretching her lips into a yawn, Hermione turned her car off, the rumble of the engine cutting out as she sat alone in the driveway. Not a sound entered her thoughts, not the traffic reports she had been listening to a moment ago, not the gentle pitter patter of rain against the windshield … not even the quiet_ ding _of her phone as the screen came to life from within her handbag on the front passenger seat._

_Only as she exhaled, setting aside the mixed feelings in her chest, did she glance to the side with just enough time to catch the name on the screen._

Jason Grey is Calling

_With a slight frown she grabbed her phone into one hand and allowed the call to go to voicemail, the screen turning dark for only a moment before a single text message came through._

_From: Jason Grey_

_Won't be home until late._

_The bed is yours._

_She rolled her eyes at that, knowing all too well what he was probably doing._

_From: Caroline Grey_

_Tell your barista friend hello for me._

 

_From: Jason Grey_

_Funny._

_Tucking her phone away, she grabbed her coat and her bag into one hand and climbed out of the car, racing to the front door as the rain started to come down harder and faster. Her clothes and hair were soaked by the time she had unlocked the front door and made her way inside, leaving a trail of rain water from the foyer to the kitchen to the lounge where she then shrugged out of her wet clothes and curled up in the couch in nothing but her knickers and a warm blanket._

_With a glass of wine in one hand and her phone in the other, she began sipping and typing away, searching through various news reports for some idea as to what was going on the city. Only as the wine in her glass had vanished, and as the wheels in her mind had started to slow down, did she realize that she was drunk._

_Pouring herself a second glass, she carried on scrolling and typing and fighting to keep her eyes open, only stopping as she heard the front door click open. With a quick look at the time, she was surprised to find that it was only nine o'clock. Her partner didn't usually drag himself home until around midnight at the earliest._

_By the time she remembered that she was almost completely unclothed, it was too late._

_Malfoy came walking into the lounge, tired circles around his eyes as he then flicked the lights on and abruptly looked away. "S-sorry, I … I didn't know you were …"_

_"S'okay," Hermione yawned, unbothered as she grabbed her top from the floor and yanked it on. "How's uni?"_

_Hesitantly glancing over again, her partner released the tension in his muscles in a single breath and slowly came over, settling onto the couch as she made room for him. With an exhausted sigh, he tilted his head back and stretched his neck to either side. "I've got a meeting and a full day of classes tomorrow followed by a stack of papers the size of Hogwarts waiting for me on my desk," he uttered. "How's the bookshop?"_

_"I get to spend my days surrounded by countless books without having to deal with anyone."_

_"You say that like it's a bad thing."_

_"It is when you've had five seconds of human contact all week."_

_Malfoy blinked one eye open to look at the brunette, gently taken aback. "Is that why you were in here drinking alone in your knickers?"_

_"You say that like it's a bad thing," Hermione quipped, reaching for her glass of wine and taking a small sip of it before handing it over to her partner. "Merlin knows if we'll ever be asked home. Three months and no leads. I'm starting to wonder if Kingsley was right about The Collective."_

_Nodding along, Malfoy took in a mouthful of the wine. "I hate to be the one to say it, but I mean … what can a group of Muggles really do to us? We've got magic on our side."_

_"Sometimes I wonder …" the brunette uttered, after a moment of silence. "Is it fair?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"That we've got magic and they haven't."_

_Her partner offered no more than a shrug. "What they don't know won't harm them."_

_"Well, that's the problem, isn't it?" she furthered, looking to him suddenly. "What if one day they come to know about us? Not just The Collective but all of them. Every non-magical man, woman and child in the world. What then?"_

_"Then we've got a problem," Malfoy decided, swallowing a second mouthful of wine. "I suppose that's why we're here. To prevent that from happening."_

_"That's … heavy."_

_"Unthinkably," he added, losing himself in thought before he then glanced to her. "If it all comes crashing down on us tomorrow … I want you to know that I … what you did for me after war …"_

_Smoothly taking the wine from his grasp, the only words that came to mind were the ones she had neglected to say in the years since. "I didn't do it for you," she confessed, fixing her eyes in the emptiness ahead as she had a drink. "I did it because they told me not to."_

_"They?"_

_Without a word she nodded, thinking distantly of the things her friends had said to her all those years ago. The people that she had trusted most in the world couldn't for one second give her the same trust back._

_It wasn't about Malfoy at all._

_It was much deeper than that._

_Looking to her as though he knew exactly what she was thinking and how heavy it weighed in her chest, he asked her something. "Do you want to know a secret?"_

_"Always."_

_"You're terrifying."_

_She glanced to him, a brush laughter dancing across her lips. "Is that right?"_

_"I'm serious," he uttered. "Your enemies … they don't stand a chance against you, Granger."_

_Slowly the laughter along her lips melted away. "I suppose you would know," she joked, if only to distract from the strange tug in her chest._

_He smiled with his eyes, ending the night in just three words. "All too well."_

With a deep breath Hermione pulled herself out of that memory, the rain outside tacking heavily against the car as she glanced to Thomas.

"No cars. No lights. If all goes well, I'll be in and out in a heartbeat," he detailed, unbuckling his seatbelt and pocketing his firearm as he switched his car off, immersing them in darkness. "And if it all goes bad, you've got to be ready to leave without me."

Her stomach clenched at the thought. "You know I can't do that."

"You have to."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"It's not up for question."

"What about Anna?"

"Don't you worry about Anna. I'm doing this for her," he stated, plainly. "I'd have left this city a long time ago if not for her."

"Then you had better make sure that you're alive and well when we find her."

"Herm —"

"I mean it. Based on the information that you relayed to me, this is all going to go terribly bad no matter what happens in that house tonight," she interjected. "When it does, we're going to need people like you on our side. Good people."

He glanced to her at the sound of that. "Why do I get the feeling that you've done this before?"

"Broken into someone's house?"

"Talked someone off the ledge," he revealed. "Before they do something stupid."

There was a beat of silence after that wherein Hermione simply looked to him, uttering the only words that entered her mind in that moment. "To be honest with you, Thomas, you remind me of a friend of mine," she began, only then realizing it. "A friend that I had once had to talk off of the tallest, most terrifying ledge that you can imagine."

"And where is this friend now?"

"Married to the love of his life and expecting his third child with her any day now," she told him. "I know that you and Anna have had your difficulties, but … it's clear that you love each other very much. Don't be so quick to throw it away. When the world goes to shit, it's going to be the love you feel for her right now in this moment that toughens you and gives you and everyone around you the strength to keep going."

Thomas fell silent, allowing those words to sink in as the rain continued to come down, hard and fast. "I need to get her back. It's got to be me."

"It will be," Hermione reassured him. "I promise."

With that, the look in his eyes had steadied and the knots in his chest unraveled for the first time since Anna had been taken from him. Swallowing the breath that he had unknowingly held in, he then looked to the brunette again, this time with a glimmer of hope that he had thought he'd lost.

"In and out," he said again, earning a firm nod from her as he grasped his door handle, climbing out in the moments after.

* * *

Draco followed behind in silence, the distant echo of the frigid, crashing waves having faded into the background completely. It was dark in the cave. Dark and soundless and staggeringly deep in its entirety. Every step he took, he felt it all around him, as if the cave were alive and had its own pulse through which it sucked him in deeper.

"Would you mind telling me why we're here?" he found himself asking, if only to distract from the anxious twitch in his chest.

Setting the pace a few steps ahead, Weasley forged onward. "How much do you know?"

"That depends."

"How much do you know about the origins of magic?"

Fixing a curious look on the animagus, Draco relayed the one piece of information he'd heard his entire life. "The origins are unknown."

"That  _is_  what they say, isn't it?" Weasley furthered, glancing back at him for only a second. "Do you know what else they say?"

Draco rolled his eyes in response. "No, Weasley. What else do they say?"

"For every action there's an equal and opposite reaction, so when magic first came to be …"

"So did the contrary," the Slytherin found himself saying, shivers all up and down his spine as he realized exactly what they were looking for in the cave. "Th-those stones. The ones on the rings. They come from this cave, don't they?"

Without a word Weasley set his torch down, grabbing the knife from his back pocket as he then made his way to the nearest wall and chipped at the rocky surface until a piece of it had broken off into his hand. Then and only then did he motion for Draco to come over, showing him what appeared to have been just any piece of rock. Sharp and dark and jagged. Grabbing his torch into his other hand, Weasley then flashed it against the rock to reveal the hidden depths.

Right up along the side, there was red.

Blood red.

Draco looked to it in a state of shock, first wondering how Weasley had come to know about all of this and then wondering what it meant and why he and the rest of the magical world had been kept in the dark so long.

"This is about as much as we'll find in this cave," Weasley explained. "The Collective had wiped it clean months ago. They've got enough anti-magic to last them a long time."

"Anti-magic? Is that what it's called?"

He nodded.

"Sorry, but how do you know all of this?"

"You don't live under the same roof as Psyche for an entire month without learning a few things …" he explained, pocketing the stone in the seconds after. "She's insane, but brilliant."

"You seem to have a type," Draco quipped, only half serious.

Ignoring the joke, Weasley nodded for him to follow along. "Come on. We're almost there."

"Almost where? I thought you said this place was wiped clean."

"It was," he nodded, pressing on as Draco raced to keep up. "But I didn't bring you here to show you anti-magic."

"Then why  _did_  you bring me h —?"

"To show you this," Weasley interjected, squeezing through a narrow passageway and into a part of the cave that was deeper and immediately quieter than the parts through which they'd traveled until that point.

Waiting on the other side, he then flashed his torch along the far wall to reveal a set of markings that had been scratched into the rock and preserved in the depths of the earth.

Draco stilled the moment he saw it. "Runes," he uttered. "Ancient magical runes."

"Carved by the first of our kind. Presumably the first to have discovered anti-magic."

"This is their story," Draco went on to say, walking right up to the wall and grazing his fingertips along the markings. "I recognize some of these runes, but … others I've never seen before. There appears to have been a battle … or a war of some sort … between our kind and theirs."

"I've got a camera. We'll take photographs and see what we can come up with once we're out of here."

"Weasley, you realize what this means, don't you?" he asked, facing the animagus. "Everything that's happening now … it's happened before. This is why anti-magic has been kept secret, even from us."

"We should really go. Before it's too dark."

"Surely we can't just leave after we've found  _this_."

"We can and we should."

Draco looked to him as though he'd gone mad. "Do you not care about any of this?"

"I was tortured for eight weeks for the sake of all of this," Weasley stated, firmly. "Believe me, I care more than anyone. But we can't stay here. The Collective may have wiped it clean, but they could return at any moment. They know about this place."

Bouncing another look at the bruises along Weasley's neck, Draco swallowed his protests. "Hand me the camera. I'll snap the photographs," he offered.

* * *

Thomas climbed in through one of the back windows, relieved to find that it had been left open a crack. Psyche didn't appear to be home. In fact the house was completely silent, the only sounds coming from the floorboards as he made his way through the kitchen, the living room and up the steps, to the second floor.

Silencing his movements as best he could, he poked a look into every room and every cupboard and every drawer that he could find, in search of something, anything that would be of use to him and his least likely friend in all of this.

Caroline.

Hermione.

Rose.

For the most part he wasn't sure what to think of her, only that he trusted her. Perhaps more than he should have considering she was a witch. The words that she had said to him earlier in the car, he heard them over and over again in the back of his mind. She believed in him and she had only just met him a day ago.

Somehow he felt stronger knowing that he had someone like her on his side.

With a few quick taps of his phone, he sent her a message to let her know what was going on.

_From: Thomas Amoia_

_I haven't found anything yet._

_I'm going to poke around a bit more._

_Five minutes tops._

In a matter of seconds she replied.

_From: Rose_

_Everything's okay outside._

_I'll let you know if I see any cars pull in._

Switching his phone on vibrate to play it safe, he tucked it inside his back pocket and carried on poking through various rooms. Only as he reached the room at the end of the hallway, a different doorknob on it than the doorknobs on the others as if it had recently been changed, did he get the creeping suspicion that he'd stumbled onto something huge.

With a deep breath he approached it, feeling for his weapon just in case before he then wrapped a hand around the doorknob and gave it a small twist.

To his surprise it was unlocked.

_You can do this._

_For Anna._

One hand on his firearm and the other on the doorknob, he gently pushed it open, the squeak of the hinges filling in the long gaps of silence as he stood in the hallway and pointed his weapon straight ahead. Ready for whatever was waiting for him on the other side, he felt a sharp kick in his gut the second he saw it.

There was a chair in the middle of the dark, empty room. Not a bed, not a dresser. Only a chair, and on top of it, a man. He appeared to be young, around the same age as Thomas if not a couple of years older, and he was fighting to stay conscious, bound by his hands and feet.

Chest pounding against his ribcage, Thomas remembered what Hermione had told him, about the non-magical man that Psyche had introduced as her boyfriend.

Eric.

Within seconds Thomas rushed forward, pulling the tape from Eric's mouth and uttering the first words that he could think of. "I'm here to help. This is all going to be over soon. I'm getting you out of here before she comes back," he forced out, hurriedly undoing the bindings as Eric panted for air, struggling to say something. "You're in a bad state. Just try to relax and I'll get you to a hospital."

"R … r … r …"

"I know. The rope is really tight," Thomas cut in, thinking that was what Eric was trying to say.

Choking on his breath now, Eric fought to get his words out, bruised up and bleeding as if he had been in a fight. "R … r … Ron …"

"Ron? You're out of it. Just try to relax. You'll be out of here soon."

Eric started to shake, the fear in his eyes clear as day as Thomas untied the last of the bindings and slung an arm under him, helping him out of the chair and turning towards the door. Only then did another text message come vibrating through.

There was no time to check.

He ignored it, deciding it was more important to get Eric out of there. Just as he kicked the door open a little wider, struggling to carry both his weight and Eric's through the hallway, he saw it. The flash of headlights through the front windows of the house.

Someone had pulled into the driveway.

Within moments he knew what was in the text message, and he knew that he was completely and utterly fucked if he didn't think fast.

"There's someone here. I-I'm going to put you down and see what's going on," Thomas said to Eric, making sure to keep his voice down. "Stay right here. I'm going to get you out of here. You have my word."

Tensing up, the fear in Eric's eyes swiftly thickened as the front door opened from the outside, a pair of footsteps slowly but surely echoing in from the foyer as someone entered the house. With only a moment of thought Thomas crept towards the corner, poking a look towards the staircase to find the outline of a thin, pale-haired woman whose face he knew all too well.

She calmly climbed up the steps, carrying with her a tray of food that was presumably for Eric.

Holding his breath to keep from making a sound, Thomas had two, maybe three seconds to ready himself for what came next. The quiet  _click_  of Psyche's footsteps echoed deeply in the shells of his ears before he silenced the voice in his head that told him to hide and instead grabbed hold of the squib.

In a matter of seconds the tray came crashing down, a spray of food staining the floorboards, the walls and the toes of his boots as he pressed his weapon directly to her head.

She chuckled in response, the sound of her laughter sending shivers down his spine. "Thomas … it's so good to finally see you again. I was hoping we could meet under lighter circumstances but … I suppose this will have to do."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, speaking the words as they came to him. "It doesn't have to be this way."

"Tell me one thing. Why are you wasting your time here when your girlfriend is locked up at the warehouse? Too scared to face Kharon?"

He swallowed, hard. "Don't you dare say a word about Anna."

"I wonder how many of your friends she's fucked," the squib furthered, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "You were always too good for her, Thomas. I hope you know that."

"Isn't that what people used to say about you and Kharon?" he countered, flicking the safety off. "They used to say he was too good for you, didn't they?"

"You'll have to try harder than that if you want to get to me."

"Oh, I plan on it. The name Corvus keeps repeating in the back of my mind. You don't happen to know anyone by that name, do you?"

Her body turned rigid. "You've done your research. Good."

"Like I said, Psyche. It doesn't have to be this way," he mentioned again. "You hate him as much as I do. We don't have to fight each other … not when Kharon is out there."

"You do a bit of light reading and all of a sudden you think you know everything about me. Isn't that right?"

"I know enough."

She laughed, humourlessly this time.

"Whatever power you had … it's gone now," he added. "You've got no control over Eric. That's why he was tied up."

"You found him, did you?"

"I did and I'm going to help him get out of here as well. You can join us and we can go after The Collective together, or you can stay here alone … miserable. Exactly the way you started."

Tensing up at the sound of that, Psyche drew in a quick breath as though to fire off another biting remark, only to stop. Her breaths became softer and shorter and she slowly tilted her head down, squeezing her eyes shut.

"It … it wasn't supposed to be this way," she confessed, her voice gently breaking. "How did … how did I turn into such a … such a …"

"It's okay. You can start fresh. All you have to do is help us."

"But the things I've done. The people I've hurt."

"You can make up for it," he said to her, unknowingly lowering his weapon as she turned around, looking up at him with genuine tears in her eyes. "We can help you. Hermione and I can —"

Quickly and without missing a beat, she grabbed the firearm out of his hands and pointed it back at him, sparing no more than a second before she pulled the trigger.

It was true what they said. His entire life flashed before his eyes in the space of that one second, the last thought that he had, consisting of Anna and how much he loved her. The last words she'd said to him echoed deeply in his mind, and in that moment, he felt a rage like no other for the life that he could have had. His life with Anna. The life that Psyche had taken from him the moment she pulled the trigger.

He opened his eyes and stared straight at her as soon as his final second came to an end.

Only then did he hear it, the voice and the footsteps that came racing up the stairs, followed by a surge of bright light like nothing he had ever seen before.

" _Protego_!" Hermione shouted, powerful and brilliant and terrifying all at once.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen:**

"What's the first thing you're going to do when we get out of here?" Yash uttered into the silence of the basement, breaking Anna's train of thought as she rested her head along his shoulder, both of them slumped against the nearest wall without the faintest idea as to the time or how long they had been locked away.

The guards had left them alone for hours.

Not a sound to be heard.

Resting her eyes for just a moment, Anna could think of one thing and one thing only, surprising even herself as the words escaped her lips. "See my parents. Thomas as well, of course. But I … things with my parents are a bit … we just … don't talk … at all anymore."

"Sounds like you miss them," he voiced, in no particular way. "What happened if you don't mind my asking?"

She wanted to laugh, but couldn't. "Everything."

"What about Thomas? I take it you guys are good now?"

"We're getting there," she nodded along, warm waves in her chest at just the thought of him. "Do you have anyone waiting for you on the outside?"

Swallowing a bit, he glanced down. "One person, I think."

"How did you meet her?"

"Is it so obvious?" he chuckled, earning an amused, knowing from Anna as she glanced back and nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We, uh … we were friends in school. Good friends, actually. She was in the year above me. Really smart and funny and kind. I … had no idea how much I liked her until I'd heard that one of my friends in her year had asked her on a date."

Anna scrunched her lips, disapprovingly. "Please don't tell me this friend knew that you liked her when he asked her out."

"He didn't know. No one knew. Shit, I barely knew …"

"So, what's the situation now?"

He tensed, forcing his eyes closed as if to remove whatever thoughts of this friends remained. "I, uh … it's complicated."

With another one of those knowing glimmers in her eyes, Anna fixed one look on him. "They're still together, aren't they?" she asked, as if the truth were written across the bartender's face.

"You're good at this."

"At what?"

"Getting the truth out of people," he furthered. "The truths they'd rather forget."

She fell silent at that, offering the only words that felt right. "Sometimes it's better to remember."

"It hurts like a bitch, though, doesn't it?"

"Absolutely," she nodded. "A loud, raging bitch … but once you get past that part, it doesn't hurt in the same way anymore. Whatever pain that's left, it pushes you forward instead of holding you back."

Yash glanced to her at the sound of that, wordlessly at first. "I take it I'm not the only one whose love life is a mess?"

There was a brush of laughter on her lips. "Like you said … complicated."

"He talks about you all the time," the bartender added. "Thomas, I mean."

"Good things, I hope."

"Great things. Even when he's mad at you."

Her chest softly clenched, the only thought that came to mind, consisting of the last words she'd exchanged with her boyfriend before everything had gone to shit. "I'm going to marry him," she uttered, quietly but determined all the same. "I'm going to get the fuck out of here, find him and lock him down so fast, he won't know what hit him."

With one look at the barista, Yash couldn't help but laugh. "Now that's love."

* * *

Hermione quietly closed the bedroom door behind her, bouncing a quick look into the kitchen as Thomas came in through the back — the keys to the wood shed dangling from his pocket.

"She won't be untying those knots any time soon," he disclosed, helping himself to a tall glass of water in the seconds after, the tension in his muscles slowly melting away as he downed it in one go. "How's the other one holding up?"

Stretching her neck, Hermione pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. "Still in recovery. He should be okay within a day or two."

"He was in really bad shape when I found him."

"It's a good thing you found him when you did."

"Yeah. Shit. He could hardly get a word out."

"Not surprised. The Imperius Curse is quite damaging."

"What is that again? Mind control?"

She nodded. "One of three Unforgivable Curses."

"What are the other two?" Thomas asked, leaning against the counter, one hand in his pocket and the other around his second glass of water as he glanced to her, the smallest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Or do I not want to know?"

"Honestly? It's best that you do know. There's no telling what's to come."

He gulped. "Good point."

"I can give you some light reading material if you'd prefer to do your own research," she offered, knowing all too well how daunting it was, having to learn of magic and all its little intricacies for the first time.

"Reading material? Fuck that," he snorted. "I almost died today. Give it to me straight."

With a small smirk she motioned for him to sit, wandlessly summoning a bit of parchment before then folding it into the shape of a bird. "First we have the Imperius Curse," she began, giving the bird a small tap and making it crawl instead of fly. "Psychological manipulation to the highest … most terrifying scope that you can imagine."

Thomas looked firmly at the bird, the discomfort in his eyes clear as day. "Good thing you didn't use a real bird," he voiced distantly, as if he didn't know he'd said it out loud.

"Great thing," Hermione agreed, the smallest twitch of hesitation in her stomach before she gave the bird another tap, after which it began shaking and quivering and crinkling in pain. "This here is … the Cruciatus Curse." Swallowing the rush of anxiety in her throat, she continued. "Used to … to inflict torture through ones pain receptors. A long enough go of this and you'll wish for the skies to open to you if only to make it … stop."

Blinking up at the brunette, Thomas fell silent for a few seconds, filling in the blanks in the quiet of his thoughts. "Sounds like the kind of thing you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy."

She opted for no more than a nod, pressing onward. "Last we have the Killing Curse. The worst, and of course, the deadliest of them all." With one last tap, the bird disintegrated into a cloud of smoke, not one trace of it remaining apart from the echo of its last cry.

"Fuck."

"Fuck is right," she uttered, rising from the table and making her way to the kitchen cupboards in the moments after. "How do you like your whiskey?"

"Uh … neat, I guess." Observing in silence, he nodded in thanks to her as she returned, sliding a whiskey neat to him from across the table whilst nursing one of her own. He wrapped his fingers around the glass and brought it to his lips, hesitating for a second. "Should we really be drinking when we've got Psyche locked up in the wood shed and The Collective to worry about?"

Hermione smirked, downing a mouthful. "I think that question answers itself."

"Good point. Drink while we still can."

"Exactly," she nodded, rising her glass to him as he did the same back. "To new friends."

"To new friends."

Within moments of that, the nerves in their chests had slowly began to settle and they were left in a state of silence, the only sounds in the safe house coming from the rooftop as the rain smacked down on it from overtop.

Thomas was the first to speak, still seated at the table as Hermione drifted to the back window, in deep thought. "So, what's the deal with you two?" he calmly asked, as though he'd been waiting for the right time to do so all day. "You and your partner. Droco or whatever his name is."

"Draco," she corrected, quietly pulling her gaze from the window in the seconds that followed. "I usually call him Malfoy, though. His family name."

"Why is that?"

"No reason. I'm just used to it, I think."

"Sounds like you two go way back."

She nodded, making her way to the table where she then had a seat across from the bouncer. "We were classmates for six, nearly seven years. At a school called Hogwarts."

"Interesting."

"Which bit?"

"You said you were classmates, not friends."

"Wouldn't want to lie, now would I?" she quipped, having another sip.

He laughed. "I think I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Why he went for Anna when he had you waiting for him at home."

Her eyebrows twitched up. "Er …"

"By that I mean, you guys have a complicated history. I'm sure it was hard, having to live under the same roof and play the roles of a married couple when you're barely even friends," he added, before his earlier statement was further misconstrued. "One question."

Swallowing another mouthful, Hermione motioned for him to go on.

"Does he know how you feel?"

She quickly choked. "S-sorry?"

"Your partner," the bouncer clarified, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. "Have you told him?"

"I-I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"Maybe. Or maybe there's a reason you stayed up all night on the porch, waiting for him."

Scrunching her lips into a frown, Hermione downed the last of her whiskey. "You've got a lot of nerve asking me these things after I saved your life."

"Funny you mention that," he furthered, sparing a moment to grab the whiskey bottle and bring it over to the table, pouring more into both their glasses. "It was actually  _because_  I almost died that I've been thinking about all of this."

"Lovely," she uttered back, in a dull voice.

He smirked. "All I'm trying to say is … maybe it's worth opening up. You said it yourself before. There's no telling what's to come."

"You do realize that he and I are here for work, don't you?"

"Tell me that I'm wrong. Go on."

Quickly parting her lips, Hermione surprised even herself as her efforts plummeted the length of her throat. She couldn't get a word out if she tried, and she did, hard. Without another second left to waste she glanced away, downing her whiskey in one go.

To her relief Thomas didn't press her on the matter. Instead he slid the entire bottle of whiskey to her, as if he knew she needed it.

* * *

"We'll leave at first light," Weasley said to them, firm in his decision.

Draco snapped a look at the animagus. "Have you gone mad? I told Granger that I would be back at the safe house tonight. She's waiting for m — for us," he blurted, having hiked with them back to the campsite just as the sun had vanished beneath the horizon.

"It's too dark. We can't take the risk."

"He's right," Corvus added, heating up dinner for them over the campfire.

Swiftly ignoring the younger wizard, Draco walked right up to Weasley as though they were first years again. "If you're stalling because you don't want her to know that you're here, then toss me the keys to my car and I'll go to the safe house on my own."

"You crashed your car," Weasley reminded him, unbothered as he settled in front of the campfire.

Draco rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yes and you're a wizard, so I know you didn't just leave it on the road for anyone to find."

"You seem to know a lot for someone who's made absolutely no progress in the five months that he's been here."

"We can't all turn into a dog at will," the Slytherin inserted, swiftly. "Why are you here anyway? You conveniently left that bit out earlier."

"None of your business."

"It is my business when I'm stuck here with the likes of you."

"If not for me, The Collective would have found you on the end of that road. I saved your life."

He tensed at the sound of that. "You're lying."

"To my recollection, it's you that lies. Not me."

"Tell me why you're here right now or —"

"You'll what?"

"I'll —"

"He's here because of me," Corvus interjected, suddenly and without an ounce of patience left in him. Quickly the two older wizards glanced his way, taken aback as he'd finally decided to speak up. With a deep breath he continued. "Because of my family, I should say."

"Corvus, you really shouldn't —"

"Too bad because I'm going to," he cut in, giving Weasley one hard look as if to say he was done following orders. Not a moment later he glanced to Draco, the rigidity in his eyes tapering a little as he went on. "My sister and I come from one of the oldest pureblood families in this part of the world. W-we had everything growing up, but it was taken away from us during the war. All of it. The houses, the artifacts, the wealth … our parents, too. One day the Death Eaters just … came knocking on our door and demanded that we join. When my parents refused, it happened quickly. I-I still remember my mother shouting for me to hide upstairs."

Draco felt it like a kick in the stomach. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't you they sent over, was it?" Corvus joked, not a trace of humour in his eyes. "Anyway I was pretty much forced to go into hiding. Psyche had already moved out and started a new life by then, but when she heard what happened, she knew exactly where to find me."

"Where was that if you don't mind my asking?"

"We had an old treehouse in the woods behind our house," he explained. "I used to play there all the time. Tune everything out. She found me there a couple of days after the attack, shivering … hungry … terrified out of my mind. After that she took me in and we took on new identities. I … I wasn't Corvus anymore. I was no one."

"She raised you," Draco gathered, slowly.

Corvus nodded. "I didn't get to go to Ilvermorny with my friends. I was forced to learn magic on my own … using whatever books that I could find."

"Why didn't you go to Ilvermorny once the war was over? You were still young."

He glanced down at the sound of that, his throat tight and his words refusing to come out. "I, uh … I guess you can say I was forced into a different war. One that's only just starting now."

"Merlin," Draco breathed, in disbelief. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

"That's not even the half of it."

"Go on then."

Ignoring the looks of disapproval that Weasley was giving him from across the campfire, Corvus continued. "Even after Voldemort had fallen, his remaining Death Eaters tried hunting us down. I didn't know it at the time, but Voldemort had an idea of the information that my family had been hiding from the rest of the wizarding world. Not only were we purebloods, we were connected to the First Ones by blood."

"The what ones?" Draco quickly asked, his face screwing in confusion.

"The First Ones," Corvus repeated. "The first people to have discovered magic … and of course, the counterpart."

"Anti-magic."

With a nod, the younger wizard kept going. "My parents had only had a small idea about it at the time, but I know they tried finding anti-magic for years. It was all because of my mother's aunt. Gemma Clarke. She was brilliant, possibly the most brilliant mind of that time," he explained. "She also happened to be a squib and she'd made it her life's mission to unearth anti-magic. Not because she had anything against magical people, but just … because she wanted the fulfillment that she had been denied from the moment that she had learned she couldn't do magic."

"She wanted to feel something," Draco gathered, earning a nod.

"As you can imagine, her means of research weren't always in line with magical regulations, so … she was eventually arrested and her research was left in disarray," Corvus carried on. "Most of it was taken in as evidence by the MACUSA, but her dearest piece of research was hidden in a safe place. Shortly before she was taken away, she had found the location of the caves … she had found proof that anti-magic was in fact,  _real_."

"Brilliant. Th-that's brilliant. Was she the one who showed you and Psyche?"

He shook his head, glancing down a moment. "No, uh … she spent the rest of her life locked up. Died before we were born."

"Oh. I-I'm sorry to hear that," the Slytherin uttered to him, sincerely.

"It was a long time ago," Corvus shrugged. "Anyway I guess Voldemort had heard whispers of it. The existence of anti-magic. When the war kicked off, he came looking for Gemma's research. My parents probably would have given it to him, too, but they didn't know where it was. No one did. Not until Psyche and I went looking for it the day I turned eleven."

Draco nodded at that, also realizing where his neighbour had come up with the name that she had given him and his partner.

"The day your magic went into full swing," he said, earning a second nod from Corvus.

"Long story short, your friend here was given the task of finding us. Most people had just figured that we were killed alongside our parents, but … I guess when news of The Collective had come out, the Head of your Auror Office decided to do a bit of digging to make sure," Corvus finished. "Anyway, dinner's ready. Time to eat."

Sparing a moment to allow the information to sink in, Draco stared into the campfire as Corvus and Weasley dug into their dinner, handing him a bowl as well. It was a lot to take in. He could hardly process the fact that Weasley was even there, let alone that he'd been sent there to find the last known connection to the First Ones. Somehow everything he thought he knew about magic, had turned out to have only been partially true.

 _What they don't know won't harm them_ , he thought to himself, differently this time.

Only as he shifted his gaze downward, forcing himself to eat what he could, did Weasley find his side in the quiet after, Corvus already having climbed into his tent to go to bed.

"Here," Weasley uttered, breaking Draco's train of thought as he handed him his car keys. "Head north from here and you'll hit a road. Your car is parked on the other side of it, by a big tree. I've got it hidden under the Disillusionment Charm but I'm sure you'll manage. Be quick and be sure to leave no tracks on your way there."

Catching the keys in one hand, Draco glanced to the animagus, taken aback. "Thanks … I think."

"Don't worry about it. Just do one thing for me."

"Anything," the Slytherin uttered, setting his bowl down as he got up, car keys in hand.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Weasley gave himself a moment to gather his words before he finally put voice to them. "Don't tell her."

"Don't tell her what?"

"That I'm here."

Draco fell silent, uncertain as to what else he should beyond, "Why?"

"It's a long story," Weasley said to him, shoving the last of his anxieties deep in his subconscious as he then stepped back, nodding to the Slytherin in farewell. "I'll find you when things kick off."

Opening his mouth as if to question the animagus further, Draco managed only to nod back, the car keys in his hand growing warm as he gave them a tight squeeze. "Watch your back out there, Weasley."

"Same to you, Malfoy."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen:**

Hermione closed the front door behind her, the muffled echo of the shower filling the quiet of her thoughts as she stepped out onto the porch for a breath of air. Although she was tired and wanted nothing more than to wash up and go to bed, she had insisted on letting Thomas have the first go. He was under immense stress and had been for the past two days. It was the least she could do to let him shower first. On top of that she needed time to think. The whiskey had slowed the wheels in her mind a bit. She couldn't quite remember what she needed to do, only that she was running out of time to do it.

With a deep breath she pulled the journal from her back pocket, turning to the spot where she had left off, only to feel something slip out from between the pages.

Glancing down at her feet, she was surprised to find a photograph of a couple. They were young, on some sort of beach, and very clearly in love going by the manner in which they were holding each other and smiling at one another instead of at the camera.

She hardly recognized them at first.

Not only was the photograph ten years old, it was also a Muggle photograph, and as she gave it a quick turn, she found a message on the back.

_I'll never forget today._

_I'll never forget you._

_Kharon._

There was a small tug in her stomach as she read that. Based on her brief encounter with Kharon at  _Afterlife_ , she never would have imagined him to have loved someone as dearly as he appeared to have loved Psyche at one point in time. She wondered what changed between them, slowly but surely reminded of a time in her life in which she had gone through those same motions.

Staring off into the dark of night, she fell deep into the highs and lows of it all once again.

_There was laughter and music and dancing all around, the floating lanterns creating a warm and romantic glow over the main couple as they held each other to their song, just swaying back and forth as if in their own universe._

_It was quite possibly the most intimate thing Hermione had ever seen._

_Hovering by the open bar with a glass of wine in hand, she forced herself to look away as she felt a familiar pair of eyes drift slowly in her direction from across the garden. It was no surprise to her that he was there, of course. At various points throughout the night she had contemplated the thought of saying hello, but the soft pangs in her chest had kept her firmly away._

_She wasn't over it._

_Nowhere close._

_Only as she downed her wine and ordered another, did she feel his approach. Suddenly she was a young girl again and he was the boy that she had met on the train, a smudge of dirt along the tip of his nose as he blinked up at her so peculiarly. By the time she had brought her second glass of wine to her lips and tasted water, she knew without a doubt in her mind that she was either going to end up walking away from him in tears or throwing her drink in his face in front of everyone._

_Or both._

_Probably both._

_"Hermione?" he interjected, unknowingly breaking her train of thought as he found her side, the music in the background fading off into nothingness as she glanced up at him for the first time in so very long. Not since he'd left the Auror Office to work at the joke shop with George._

_Chest tightening at the sight of him, there was very little that came to mind apart from, "What do you want?"_

_His eyes briefly widened in response to her biting tone, but he didn't appear particularly shocked to hear it from her lips. In fact he appeared quite used to it if anything. "I, er … I just figured I'd come say hello. It's a bit awkward … avoiding each other like this. Wouldn't you say?"_

_She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Get on with it."_

_"With what?"_

_"With whatever it is that you truly came here to say."_

_For a split second he looked to her as if to argue that she was wrong about his intentions, but she wasn't, and they both knew it. Swallowing his original protests, he gave himself a moment to try and piece his thoughts into something coherent. "Listen, Hermione, I … the way we left things … the way I left things …"_

_She squeezed her eyes closed, resisting the urge to snap at him again. "Don't."_

_"I just want to say that I'm …"_

_"Honestly, Ronald, don't."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"I said don't!" she blurted, earning looks from a few of the other people at the open bar. All of a sudden she had turned into the type of witch that she had used to make fun of, starting arguments with her ex in the middle of a wedding. Sparing a moment to relax, she grabbed her glass of wine and walked to a more private corner of the garden as Ron followed a step or two behind. Only as they reached the edge of the garden, closer to the lake at the back of the house, did she stop, fold her arms and look up at him. "You've had a year to apologize to me but you've chosen tonight of all nights to do so? You do realize this is Neville's wedding, don't you?"_

_He rubbed the exhaustion from his face. "I know now's not the best time, I just thought …"_

_"You thought because we're at a wedding, I would be in a good enough mood to accept whatever shit apology you were going to throw my way?"_

_"There's no need to be so combative. I'm only trying to speak to you."_

_She laughed, not a trace of humour in her eyes. "Ronald, you had me on ropes for days, and then you just packed your things and left without saying a word about it to me," she said to him in one breath. "Of course I'm combative! Who wouldn't be?"_

_Swallowing the lump of anxiousness in his throat, the wizard simply looked to her a moment as if slowly coming to terms with the fact that perhaps it was a bad idea to force an apology onto her a year after the fact._

_Truthfully their relationship was never perfect._

_There were cracks in it from the start, the first of which had come to be shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. It wasn't the fact that Ron had wanted out, it was the fact that after so many years … he couldn't bring himself to tell her what was really going on. If he was unhappy, he could have said something, but he didn't._

_Instead he vanished._

_Standing across from her near the lake, he opened his mouth as if to explain, but he hesitated, his Adam's apple sinking the length of his throat as he gulped, hard. "There are things you don't …. there are things you don't know about the situation. Things I can't … things I can't say."_

_"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ronald …" She shook her head and swiftly cut past him, the click of her heels punctuating each step that she took as he then raced over._

_"Hermione, wait!" he blurted, cutting in front of her just a couple of steps away from all of the wedding festivities, the music having slowed a little by that point, to a song that they'd not heard in a very long time. "Please, just … hear me out."_

_She tensed, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to hold in every ounce of emotion that had been grappling at her heart from the moment she had arrived at the wedding. "I have nothing more to say to you."_

_"Good, because right now I need you to lis —"_

_"No, Ronald, I'm serious," she interjected, looking him straight in the eyes. "I have nothing, not a word, not a shred of patience left inside me tonight, so if you could_ please _for the love of Merlin just leave me be, I would really appreciate it, Ro —"_

_"One dance."_

_"What?"_

_"One dance," he repeated, hurriedly as if he knew that was it, all that could possibly amount from the tumultuous blend of unspoken words and crushed hopes between them in that moment. "Just … just one dance."_

_She narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the warmth that had pooled along the corners. "Why?"_

_Without a word he let the slow, rhythmic th-thump of the music answer the question for him. Only then did she realize it wasn't just any song that was playing. It was their song. The first song they had danced to all those years ago, at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Before the battles and before the sleepless nights and before the heartbreak. It was like a window into the past, a window that she thought she had closed months ago._

_One moment she was glancing up at him in silence, inches away in the shadows of the festivities, and the next moment her eyes were closed and his arms were around her, holding her lightly but warmly as though he couldn't stand the thought of letting go even though he knew he eventually had to._

_The song was eventually going to end._

_He was eventually going to let go and she was eventually going to open her eyes, look up at him one last time and walk away._

_It was only as it happened, as the song had started to fade into another, and as his hands drifted slowly from her waist to her arms to her cheeks, that she allowed herself to sink in just a little bit deeper._

_Slowly he kissed her and slowly she kissed back, the last few beats of the song met with the last words he had said to her that night before she'd opened her eyes, looked up at him one last time and walked away._

Some small part of her heart broke again just thinking about it.

Only as another strong gust of wind tore through the forest did she remember she was still on the porch, the journal still in her clutches and the muffled echo of the shower still filling the quiet of her thoughts.

Sucking in a deep breath, she rose to her feet, tucking the journal under her arm as she turned her back to the trees beyond the safe house, just barely grazing the doorknob before she heard it. The distant crunch of twigs as if something or someone were slowly approaching, inching closer with each second. Making a swift grab for her wand, she spun around expecting to find Kharon's men pointing their weapons at her, but instead she found only the glow of headlights, followed by the outline of one tired-eyed wizard as he switched his car off and climbed out of the driver's seat.

Within seconds she dropped her wand, waves of relief crashing through her chest as he closed his car door and glanced up at her from across the clearing.

Countless thoughts came to mind, but only one of them managed to escape her lips. "Not once in my life did I ever think I would be so glad to see you."

To that he couldn't help but smirk, meeting her on the porch and lifting her wand from the floor, just moments before she gave him a tight, rib-bruising hug.

"I-I thought that I'd lost you for a moment there," she found herself saying, chuckling through it if only to distract from the warmth that had suddenly filled the corners of her eyes. "Where have you been anyway?"

There was a soft hitch in his throat before he explained, the pair of them slowly separating in the moments after. "Do you remember the student from those articles? The one who was assaulted at  _Afterlife_?"

She quickly nodded, remembering his name. "Donovan White."

"Yes, well … as it happens, his name isn't Donovan. It's Corvus."

"Corvus?" she repeated, her eyes widening. "As in Psyche's younger brother?"

His face screwed in response. "How do you know that?"

"It's in Psyche's journal. I've got it here," she explained, showing him. "Thomas gave it to me to read. He apparently snatched it from Kharon's office before he jumped ship."

Only then did Malfoy remember. "Fuck. He's inside, isn't he?"

Hermione nodded, the softest hint of laughter on her lips. "He doesn't bite," she playfully added. "He's actually a lot like Harry."

"You do realize Potter and I were enemies for years, don't you?"

"Only because you were such a git in school."

"A git that brought tears to your eyes a moment ago," he snorted, quickly holding in his laughter as he then reached for her hand and pulled her back just seconds after she'd frowned at him and made a grab for the doorknob to leave him out there in the cold. "W-wait!"

Glancing back at him with question marks in her eyes, she impatiently uttered the only word that entered her mind. "What?"

"Before I follow you through that door and have my beautiful face beaten in by Anna's boyfriend … I want you to know something," he uttered, speaking his next words quietly even though they were alone out there. "You couldn't lose me if you tried, Granger."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen:**

The moment Thomas came walking out of the bathroom, the ends of his hair still jagged and wet from his shower, the atmosphere in the safe house had quickly thickened. He took one look at the wizard on the couch, recognizing him within seconds. On the one hand he had never been much of a talker. In fact he had always preferred letting his fists do the talking for him. But on the other hand he had bigger, more important matters to worry about in that moment. Whatever words that his fists had for Draco Malfoy, he felt it could wait.

More than anything he figured there was no harm in letting the wizard sweat it out a little bit.

"Oh, good. You're back," Hermione uttered from the coffee table, a spread of photographs along the smooth, wooden surface. "My partner here arrived a moment ago. I, er … I trust you two will play nice for tonight?"

On the couch to her left, the wizard fixed a discreet look at Thomas as if trying to determine the true answer to that question. He didn't seem nervous, just hesitant. Right away Thomas could tell that this Malfoy guy had more than likely taken a hit or two in his life, which he supposed made sense for someone who worked in law enforcement.

Without another word the bouncer joined them by the coffee table, taking in the information that Hermione relayed to him about Psyche's family history, the anti-magic cave, and the true identity behind the student that he and the other bouncers had run into at  _Afterlife_  the other month. It was a lot, and he wasn't sure he believed all of it, but he also didn't have much of a choice.

"So, what you're saying is … Psyche's brother is on our side?" Thomas asked, after a moment of complete silence. "And everything that's happening now has happened before?"

Hermione nodded in response, dipping her Quill into a pot of ink as she carried on translating the markings in the photographs. "We should see if we can find the locations of the other caves. I've a feeling these Runes only tell part of the story …"

"What about Anna?"

"The sooner we unravel Kharon's plans, the sooner we'll have enough information to bring Anna and Yash to safety."

"That's easy for you to say," he snorted. "You got your partner back, but my girlfriend is still out there."

"We'll find her when the time is right."

"At this rate, that's never going to happen. She's been waiting two days for me to find her and all we're doing right now is sitting around wasting time."

"Thomas, I know you're worried, but —"

"But Anna is last on the list of priorities. I get it."

Hermione instinctively set her Quill down, looking to him from across the coffee table. "What do you suggest we do? Crash the gate and hope they don't immediately shoot us down?" she asked. "I don't know Anna personally, but if she's anything like you've described, she's not counting on you to go in there without a plan. She's counting on you to survive and to ensure that she's going to be safe once she's out."

On the other couch, Malfoy nodded. "Granger's right. For now Anna's far safer in the warehouse than we are out here."

Thomas snapped a look at the wizard as if on the verge of pummelling him to the ground beneath the floorboards right then and there. "You've got a lot of nerve speaking her name."

"Boys, if we could all just take a deep breath and re —"

"Have a swing and be done with it," Malfoy interjected, earning a sharp look of warning from his partner which he swiftly ignored. Instead he rose from the couch at the same time as Thomas, not once breaking eye contact. "Your anger towards me is only going to get in the way. We can sort this out right now."

Hermione scrambled to her feet, hurriedly pulling the two men apart as Thomas grabbed Malfoy by the collar and took one clean swing at him, just barely going in for another before the brunette inserted herself between them with her arms extended. "Stop this at once! Both of you!"

To that Thomas couldn't help but laugh, humourlessly. "Figures you'd protect this idiot," he spat, nodding to Malfoy who to his surprise, hadn't backed down. In fact he appeared to be ready for a second swing if anything, his bottom lip split open from the first one.

Struggling to hold them apart, Hermione fixed all her attention on the bouncer, as if she knew the pain that he felt. "Believe me, Thomas, I'm protecting nothing apart from the mission."

"Then step aside and let me finish what he started."

"I can't do that. We're in far too much danger to be having a go at each other like this. Please just … not tonight. Think about Anna."

He swallowed hard, glancing down at the brunette. "She's all I think about. Why the fuck else do you think I want to rearrange your boyfriend's face?"

There was a beat of silence between the three of them at the sound of that word. Boyfriend. For a moment Hermione parted her lips as if to correct the bouncer, but her efforts were thwarted as he took one deep breath and angrily walked off, slamming the back door behind him on his way out.

"Give him space," Malfoy advised, wiping the blood from his bottom lip. "He needs it."

* * *

Ron sat in front of the campfire, tossing twigs into it long after Malfoy had left, the faint hiss and crackle of it filling in the gaps of silence in his mind as he then heard movement behind him.

Within seconds he grabbed his wand from his back pocket, jumping to his feet and darting a look around the campsite to find nothing but a tired-eyed Corvus climbing out of his tent, presumably to use the bathroom.

"S-sorry," the young wizard yawned. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Exhaling deeply, Ron pocketed his wand. "S'okay. I'm feeling a bit anxious tonight as it is."

"Do you want a drink? I think I have some firewhiskey left in my bag."

"It's probably best that I don't. Not tonight."

To that Corvus simply shrugged, making his way to one of the trees in the distance where he then unzipped his jeans and sighed out loud, relieving himself as if for the first time in weeks. Only as he returned a moment later, did he realize that Ron was still staring deeply into the campfire, lost in thought.

"You do know you could always turn in for the night and finish agonizing over your problems in the morning once you've had some rest, don't you?" he quipped, earning a quick glare from the older wizard.

"I'm not agonizing."

Corvus settled into one of the foldout chairs, unbothered. "In that case I'll sit out here with you."

"You make me glad that I never had a younger brother."

"I suppose that's one way to thank me for saving your life."

Narrowing his eyes at the younger wizard, Ron forced himself to say it. "Thank you. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone."

"One question," Corvus inserted, ignoring the second bit. "Does this have anything to do with … oh, I don't know … your ex-girlfriend?"

"Merlin's sake. I knew I shouldn't have told you about her."

"I'm only asking because Draco doesn't seem to be here anymore."

"And just what does he have to do with anything?"

"Well, he clearly has feelings for her."

"That would be the day."

"I'm serious. He nearly took off on foot when you refused to give him his car keys earlier."

Ron tensed at the sound of that. "You've got a strange imagination."

"Maybe," Corvus began, reaching for his hiking bag from where he then retrieved that bottle of firewhiskey that he'd mentioned earlier. "Or maybe Draco sees in her the same qualities that you saw in her when it was the two of you against the world, the idea of which is almost as painful to you as the reason you left her in the first place."

"Quite a story you've concocted there."

"You're annoyed because you know I'm right."

"Oh, do I seem annoyed to you?" Ron asked, snapping the twig in his grasp.

"One more question."

Rolling his eyes, the older wizard made a hand motion as if to tell Corvus to get it over with.

"Did she ever see you?" he asked. "In your animagus form, I mean. You were living on the same street for an entire month after all."

Thinking back to the dinner party at the Grey house, Ron fell silent, his chest clenching hard at his memory of that night. The way in which Hermione had knelt down and talked to him as if somewhere deep down, she knew. She'd seemed so lonely at the time, lost in the highs and lows of her undercover life whilst trying to make sense of the one she'd left behind. At one point she'd even mentioned him. Something about how her ex-boyfriend's patronus was also a Jack Russell Terrier.

It took everything he had not to tell her truth that night.

For her protection and for his own.

* * *

Hermione gently closed the door to Eric's bedroom behind her, having given him an entire bottle of Sleeping Draught to help quicken the Healing process. The less time he spent awake, asking questions, the easier it was going to be restore him to full health.

With a short yawn, she made her way to the front window of the house, sliding a finger between the curtains to find that Thomas had decided to sleep in his car that night. For a split second she considered heading out there to wake him and insist that he sleep inside the house where it was at least warm, but her attention drifted away from the window as she heard movement coming from the kitchen. Glancing over her shoulder she was unsurprised to find Malfoy in there, fresh from his shower, where he appeared to have washed out the last of Jason Grey's black hair dye, and in search of Healing supplies.

She frowned for only a moment, slowly making her way over as the wizard struggled to open the only bottle of Essence of Dittany that they had left. "Give it here," she voiced, taking hold of the potion bottle and popping it open with ease as her partner looked on in silence, the cut along his bottom lip having reopened between then and when Thomas had taken a swing at him earlier.

Motioning for her partner to sit down at the kitchen table, Hermione then proceeded to apply just a few drops of the potion along his bottom lip and along the cut on his forehead, which she could only assume he had earned from the crash.

"You should really apologize to him," she uttered once the potion had worked its magic, wetting a kitchen cloth in the sink and using it to wipe the blood from his face afterwards.

Malfoy snorted at the idea. "I should apologize to the bloke who split my lip open an hour ago?"

"You had sex with his girlfriend for months. As far as I'm concerned you deserved far worse than just a fist to the face."

"Then maybe you should have stepped aside when he asked you to," her partner furthered. "Why didn't you anyway?"

"Would you like me to wake him up and bring him here?"

"I'm only asking, Granger."

She rolled her eyes, wiping at his lip a little roughly after. "As I mentioned earlier, the mission is my only concern."

Resisting the urge to smirk, he simply looked at her a moment as she carried on wiping away, the smallest trace of knowingness in his eyes. "You care."

"About the mission? Of course I care."

"About me."

She glared at him, dully. "We're partners. I'm paid to care."

To that he couldn't help but laugh, uttering his next words in the quiet after, as their eyes briefly met in the dimness of the kitchen. "For what it's worth, Granger, I care quite a lot."

"About the mission."

"About you," he confessed, bringing a swift and unexpected rush of warmth to her chest that she didn't quite understand. "When I crashed last night, I … I had no idea what was going to happen, who was going to find me on that road, whether I'd even survived …" His Adam's apple plunged the length of his throat as he then swallowed. "I just … all I could think about was you."

"Malfoy …"

"I'm serious."

Her cheeks prickled with heat, the cloth slipping an inch or two through her fingertips before she lowered her hand and turned away from him if only to hide the flush of colour along her face and neck and pretty much everywhere else. Closing her eyes she stood there in complete silence, the rapid beats of her heart quickening a little as he rose from the table and slowly but surely inched closer.

"Granger, I …"

Taking in a quick, shaky breath, she uttered the only word that reached her lips. "Don't."

Without another word he took her by the hand and gently turned her around, holding on loosely enough that she could easily have pulled away if she wanted to. "Say it like you mean it."

She fell silent at the sound of that, blinking up at the wizard as every ounce of worry that she had felt for him in the past couple of days began grappling at her chest so tightly, she couldn't speak. All she could do was close her eyes, breathe in the scent of his body wash and tilt her head up as he ghosted his fingertips along her cheek, slowly leaning in before the front door clicked open, a tired-eyed Thomas dragging his body back inside the house after having fallen asleep in his car.

At once the witch and wizard jumped apart, separating so quickly, it was as if Filch had caught them in the corridors past curfew. Only they weren't students anymore and they certainly had no curfew to follow.

Still half asleep, the bouncer hadn't the faintest idea as to what he'd nearly walked in on.

He simply collapsed onto the nearest couch and immediately fell back asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen:**

Hermione awoke early the following day, the ends of her curly brown hair still dripping from her morning shower as she made her way to the front porch to keep an eye out as the boys slept, her wand in her back pocket. For the most part her magic was just as powerful as before, but she was still in the process of acclimating to it again, the flowing energy that she thought she had lost.

The little things helped most. Unlocking doors, turning the pages of a book, stirring milk into her morning tea. In other words she was both relieved and shocked that she had managed to perform a full blown Shield Charm just in time to save Thomas the other night.

For a moment there she had started to wonder whether she could even save herself anymore, let alone anyone else.

"You're up early," Malfoy interjected, closing the front door behind him as he made his way onto the front porch, dressed and ready for the day ahead.

Glancing back, Hermione made room for him on the topmost step. "Just used to it, I suppose …" she decided, thinking of her travels with Harry and Ron during the war. Those endless months of hiding and running and searching for something they feared they were never going to find. "How do you think this is all going to turn out?"

"Simple. We'll break into the warehouse, save our friends, plant a set of explosives in the hidden room with all the anti-magic in it, fight our way through the reinforcements in our path and then watch it all go up in flames as we drive off … or something along those lines."

She couldn't help but smirk. "Sounds like the perfect finish."

"It wouldn't hurt to have a drink once we're back in London," he added, in no particular manner. "A glass of firewhiskey between partners. What do you say?"

There was a hint of laughter along her lips as she looked to him. "You've given this some serious thought, haven't you?"

"Only the most serious of thoughts for Auror Granger."

"Okay, what's got you in such a good mood this early in the morning?"

"Fair question," he agreed, giving it a moment of thought. "Let's see. We've got The Collective after us, our connection and only means of communication to the Auror Office back in London is blocked by anti-magic which we didn't know existed until a couple of days ago, and the world as we know it is likely going to change in a massive, irreversible way no matter what we do."

Lifting an eyebrow at the wizard, Hermione fell silent. "That's what has you in a good mood?"

He glanced to her, distantly comforted by the words he'd not yet said. "I'm on the right side this time."

Without a word she gave him a smile, just a trace of something to acknowledge how mindful she was of the changes that he had made since the war. "You've come a long way, Draco Malfoy."

"Only because someone believed I could."

For a moment she thought to ask who, but the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. "I'm going to hold you to that glass of firewhiskey."

"I'll even let you pay," he smirked, earning a soft laugh from the brunette before she then looked to him, the morning winds slowing in that one brief moment.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she stopped in thought. "Promise me something, Malfoy."

"Er … I'd really like to do that, but as I'm sure you can imagine, Slytherins aren't exactly known for keeping promises."

Giving him a playful nudge to the ribs, she resisted the urge to laugh with him, instead sparing a moment for the soft, sweeping silence from before to wash over them again. "Promise me, Draco Malfoy, that when the world goes up in flames … you'll do everything you can to survive."

Slowly the laughter vanished from his eyes and lips, replaced with a flicker of something deeper before he then pulled himself firmly to the ground. "Anything for that glass of firewhiskey."

**_Two Hours Later_ **

Thomas tiredly blinked his eyes open, every inch of his body in knots as if he'd slept on the floor instead of the couch. With one look at the time on his phone, he was relieved to learn that it was only eight o'clock. Still a bit early considering when he went to sleep, but he'd gotten used to the late nights and early mornings a long time ago.

Stretching his neck and his arms, he slowly got up and turned towards the kitchen to find Malfoy standing there, brewing some sort of potion. "Uh …"

"Granger's checking on Psyche in the wood shed," Malfoy explained without having been asked, his eyes fixed on the potion in front of him as he tipped various ingredients into it and stirred in a different direction each time.

"Alone?" Thomas couldn't help but ask, remembering the manner in which Psyche had so easily manipulated him into lowering his guard the other night. "Psyche is genuinely crazy."

"Yes, well, she's never met Hermione Granger. Only Caroline."

"What do you mean by that? They're the same person."

"Only by appearance," Malfoy explained. "Caroline was soft, unsure of herself in most ways."

"And Hermione?"

"Let's just say I wouldn't want to get on her bad side. Not again anyway."

Thomas narrowed his eyes curiously. "Is that why you're in here making potions first thing in the morning? Because you trust that she's safe on her own?" he asked, earning a sharp look from the wizard. "Not because you're trying to distract from the fact that you're obviously worried?"

"Of course I'm worried," Malfoy snorted, tossing an obvious look at the bouncer as he carried on brewing his potion. "The last time I let that witch out of my sight, I didn't see her for two days."

"The night I met her."

"Yes, the night you met her."

"Where were you that whole time anyway? You said Corvus found you, but … where did he take you?" Thomas asked.

Malfoy blinked one very suspicious look at the bouncer. "Why do you want to know?"

"Don't you think I have the right to know if I'm supposed to stay in this house and trust that you guys know what you're doing?"

"You're here because Granger wants you here."

"Oh, so you're saying I can take off?" Thomas joked, fixing a knowing look on the wizard. "I'm not as dumb as you think I am. I know you're hiding something."

Unperturbed if not for the twitch of his bottom lip, Malfoy lowered the flame under his cauldron, stepping away and wiping his hands on a kitchen cloth in the seconds after, his back turned to the bouncer. "What could I possibly have to hide? I told her everything I know about Corvus and his and Psyche's family."

There was a surprised flicker in the bouncer's eyes. "I didn't say who you were hiding something from, but thanks for the information."

Malfoy swallowed hard, quickly turning around after. "Whatever it is you're trying to do —"

"I'm not trying to do anything," Thomas interjected, firmly. "I'm just giving you a heads up. She cares about you. Probably more than she cares to admit. If you're hiding something from her, it's not going to end well for any of us."

Tensing at the sound of that, Malfoy said nothing in response.

* * *

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Psyche, watching as the squib slowly but surely awoke from the vial of Sleeping Draught they'd given her the previous day. "Careful now," she uttered, earning a sharp look from the squib as she pulled against her bindings. "The more you struggle, the tighter those knots will squeeze."

Wincing only a little, Psyche slowed her movements, instead fixing a glare on the brunette. "Well … if it isn't my good friend, Caroline. Or is it Hermione now? I've lost track of your undercover names."

"Auror Granger to you," Hermione calmly stated, her wand tucked safely in her sleeve where she could easily reach it if the conversation were to take an unexpected turn. "Now before we begin, would you like a glass of water? Something to eat?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. If you're trying to find some sort of discreet way to slip truth potion into my body, you're doing a bad job of hiding it."

"What makes you think I'm trying to do that?"

"Do you really expect me to believe you wouldn't?" the squib inquired, dully. "You're an Auror. That's basically all you guys are trained to do. Force truth potions on people, get the information that you want out of them and then lock them away."

Hermione allowed those words to settle into the three or so feet between them before she uttered a string of her own, never once looking away. "My training was a little different from that."

"Last I checked, you barely went through any training at all."

"Strange."

"What's strange?"

"The amount of information that you know about me," she furthered, calmly. "To my knowledge, the length of my training was never revealed to anyone outside of the Auror Office in London."

Psyche smirked. "Any idiot can figure out the fact that Harry Potter and his two best friends were given special treatment after the war."

"Perhaps," Hermione offered, giving it a moment of thought. "But you seem to be certain of it … too certain, I would say."

"How cute. You're finally doing your job."

Swiftly ignoring the squib's biting remark, Hermione looked her straight in the eyes. "Who is it? Your contact at the Auror Office."

"You could always give me truth potion and find out," Psyche uttered to her, teasingly. "But you don't like doing things the easy way, now do you?"

Without a word of response, Hermione chose simply to observe, taking note of the small changes in the squib's expression with every word that came out of her mouth.

"I'll give you a hint. He's really good in bed," she went on to say, giving her lips a lick at just the memory of this wizard. "When he came looking for me in New York, I have to say I really didn't recognize him at first. His hair was a different colour and his eyes weren't as piercing and he was far more serious than I had thought he was going to be. If I had to guess, I would say that he had agreed to the mission because he was running from something. Someone, maybe … but enough about that."

There was a certain tightness in Hermione's gut as she listened, the wheels in her mind turning as the pieces fell slowly into place.

"Do you want to know what really gave him away?" Psyche added. "His animagus form. A small Jack Russell Terrier. He hid it well at first, but I caught him after our third night together. We had just finished fucking, his guard was down as he left my apartment, and before he knew it, he had a collar around his neck. My little magic tap."

Hermione swallowed, firmly. "Sparky. I was right. He's not just a dog. He's a wizard and it was his magic that you were using against Eric."

"Look at you filling in the blanks all on your own."

"Why wasn't he there last night? At your house?"

"That's where the story gets really interesting," Psyche chuckled, the humour vanishing from her eyes and lips within seconds. "He escaped with the help of my younger brother. Days ago."

Chest clenching tightly inside her top, Hermione tried not to show the confusion in her face.  _That can't be true. Malfoy said Corvus was alone. Either he lied to me last night or Psyche is lying to me right now_. With only a moment of thought, she decided to place it in the back of her mind for the time being.

"Your friends," the squib cut in, breaking Hermione's train of thought in the quiet after. "The two that are locked away in the warehouse. I know a way that you can sneak them out unseen."

"How do you know I've got friends in the warehouse?"

"Kharon isn't the only one with eyes and ears everywhere," she confessed, smiling as she said it. "And until my brother helped Sparky escape, Eric wasn't the only one that I had placed under the Imperius Curse. Do you remember Ian from  _Afterlife_?"

Hermione's face screwed. "But the anti-magic rings …"

"The ones that come off, you mean? All I had to do was invite that piece of shit to my apartment, convince him that I was interested and that Kharon could never find out, and then swipe his ring and replace it with another when he was waiting for me in the shower."

"Surely he's not so stupid."

Psyche broke into laughter. "Oh, Hermione. As a woman your strongest, most powerful weapon is between your little legs. Did they not teach you that when you were training to be an Auror?"

"Like I said, my training was different." Stilling for a moment, Hermione focused her efforts on what was most important. "I assume you're not going to tell me how to help my friends out of the kindness in your heart."

"So smart. Just like how Skeeter described you in her book," Psyche quipped. "My brother. Bring him to me and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

* * *

Corvus snapped out of his thoughts, darting a look around the forest to find that he'd lost sight of Ron. "Shit …" he uttered under his breath, stumbling about in search of that fiery red hair only to hear the crunch of footsteps in the distance.

For a second he relaxed thinking Ron had come back to find him, but as he bounced a look in the direction of the footsteps, his eyes widened in shock. Immediately ducking behind a tree, he held his breath as to not make a sound, the crunch of the footsteps inching closer and growing heavier by the second. By some miracle they'd not seen him, but he knew it was only a matter of time. It always was. He couldn't escape them twice.

"Do you think this thing actually works?" the shorter of the two men asked, holding a slim black voice recorder of some sort with a glowing red stone on the tip.

His partner kept an eye out a few steps behind, his hand clasped around a firearm. "Will you shut your mouth and just follow the fucking tracker? Kharon's expecting results. No Cons, no pay."

Swallowing at the mention of that word, Corvus had just one idea as to what it meant.  _Conjurers_. And the device in the short one's hand must have been a magical tracker, powered by anti-magic. Thinking back, Corvus remembered reading through his sister's notes. The various contraptions and devices that she had designed and that Kharon had apparently stolen from her in the months since he had forced her out of The Collective.

By that point Corvus had long since turned his back on both Psyche and Kharon, as the power of anti-magic had changed them from the people he once knew, but he still cared deeply for Psyche. Enough that he'd traveled all the way to Vancouver in search of her, only to find that she wasn't at all how he remembered. In fact she was worse. She was so devastated by the manner in which Kharon had tossed her to the side, that she had completely lost sight of who she really was.

It pained him to think about her the way she was now, but he hadn't the time to sink into the past. Not then. With every second that he stood behind that tree, the harder it was going to be for him to escape the tracking device that Kharon had given to his guards. Black Coats as he liked to call them. How those two Black Coats had managed to track him in the middle of nowhere, he had no idea, but he had a feeling it had to do with the wizarding village nearby. Kharon had likely sent them there in order to find a magical and bring them back to the warehouse, but their tracker had instead led them to Corvus.

He supposed he was still a magical by blood, but he'd not felt the same since  _Afterlife_.

Squeezing his eyes closed for only a second, he envisioned exactly what he was going to do. Run straight for the lake, toss his bag into the water to make it look like he'd jumped and then wait it out in the shadows as they searched for him.

The very moment he opened his eyes again, rocking forward just seconds before he was going to take off towards the lake, he felt a hand on his shoulder and the tip of a knife along his throat.

"Well, look who we have here," the tall one laughed, effortlessly turning Corvus around. "Didn't learn your lesson last time, did you?"

Struggling against the knife, Corvus stared the Black Coats in the eyes, recognizing both of them from the beating he'd received at  _Afterlife_.

Without another word he was forced to the ground, choking on his breath as they began shoving, kicking and pummelling him at once. It was no use fighting back. He'd learned that the last time. His only hope was that one of them would think to stop moments before he was beaten within an inch of his life. Only as he stumbled to his feet and as the taller one swung at him right in the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him flying backwards, did he catch sight of the red head of hair racing towards them in the distance.

"Look out!" the taller one shouted, just seconds before Ron grabbed the short one by the collar of his shirt and slammed his head against a tree, knocking him unconscious and swiping the firearm out of his pocket before shooting the tall one in his leg without a moment of thought.

Corvus wiped the blood from his mouth, stumbling to his feet and bouncing one quick look at the tall Black Coat as he groaned in pain and shakily pointed his own firearm at Ron. There was no time to kick it from his grasp. Within seconds Ron grabbed Corvus by the elbow and Apparated with him to safety, vanishing into the air just as the trigger was pulled.

* * *

"You're back," Malfoy uttered, glancing to Hermione as she pressed the back door closed behind her, the colour in her face slowly draining as Psyche's word sunk in.

Only as she walked past without a word, too deep in her own thoughts to realize that he had said something to her at all, did he realize something was wrong. Thomas caught on as well, the pair of them exchanging a quick look as Hermione made her way to the kitchen table where she had left her phone.

"How did it go in there?" Malfoy furthered, gently. "Did she tell you anything useful?"

Scrolling through her messages, Hermione located the voice message that Malfoy had sent to her the other night, from an unknown number which she could only assume belonged to Corvus. In a matter of seconds she called it, holding the phone to her ear and turning away from her partner as it started to ring.

His face twisted in confusion. "Granger, what are you doing? Who are you calling?"

Within seconds his questions were answered, the voice of a troubled young man coming through on the other end of the call. " _H-hello? Is this Draco? You need to come back here quick! Ron's been shot! We need help! Dittany! Anything_!"

Just like that Hermione set her phone down, every suspicion that she had ever had about Sparky confirmed in the space of just a few seconds. Swallowing the rush of confusion and anxiety and anger that rose the length of her throat, she nudged past her partner and grabbed her coat, quickly making her way to the door as the two men stared on.

It was only as she unlocked it and swung it open that she glanced back at them, impatiently. "Are you two coming or not?"

Thomas was the first to come forward, shrugging his coat on and grabbing his car keys.

Malfoy, on the other hand, stood exactly where he was, his Adam's apple plunging the length of his throat as he locked eyes with Hermione from across the safe house, the look in hers communicating to him the words that she didn't have the time to say.

 _You lied to me_.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty:**

Anna awoke in a tired, confused state, hugging her arms tightly across her chest, against the cold of the basement, as she then glanced to Yash's side to find that he was gone. Last she checked, he had fallen asleep right beside her, shortly after the guards had given them a bite to eat early in the morning. Only then did she realize what had happened. The guards must have slipped something into the breakfast, thereby making it easier to transport Yash out of the basement, unnoticed.

The exhaustion had swept over her quickly.

Too quickly.

Shakily gathering her breath, she felt around the floor for any sign of blood or struggle, anything to indicate what could possibly have happened when she was asleep, only to find a ring instead. Yash's anti-magic ring. She gulped at the sight of it, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. To her knowledge Yash never went anywhere without his anti-magic ring. Neither did Thomas. The fact that he'd left it on the floor can't have been an accident. He had to have left it there for her to find, only she had no idea why.

Her thoughts went to the worst possible places before she hurriedly tucked the ring in her pocket, just seconds before the basement door swung open to reveal two guards she'd never seen before. She'd grown so used to Ian and his indiscreet stares that first day, the fact that he hadn't stopped by in the days since had left her feeling more curious than relieved.

The two guards grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her through the door.

"Wh-where are you taking me? Let me go!" she shouted, struggling to escape their grasps if only to keep the fire in her chest alive another day. She knew the moment that fire died out, there was no chance that she would ever make it out.

Without a word the guards dragged her through the long, unlit corridor and into one of the rooms on the far side of the building, throwing her to Kharon's feet in the seconds after.

She quickly froze, her knees bruised and burning, and her eyes wide and full of bewilderment as she blinked up at the man behind it all. Although she had only met him a couple of times, he had always given her a bad feeling, and not in the same way as Ian and most other men.

As it happened, Kharon was different.

Motioning for the guards to leave them at once, in what appeared to be his warehouse office, he then knelt down in front of Anna, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she sharply turned her head away.

"My guards haven't been very kind to you, have they?" he asked, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "If I were you, I would be very upset with your boyfriend, Anna."

She tensed at the mention of Thomas, unable to stop herself as the words escaped her quivering, cracked lips. "You don't know the first thing about him."

"I know enough. He's left you here to answer for his mistakes, hasn't he?"

"Wh-what do you want from me? Just say it! Stop with the bullshit and just get to the point!" she blurted, gasping towards the end.

Kharon smiled in response, as if he knew something that she didn't. "Your boyfriend is working with some bad people, Anna. I want you to put a stop to it."

Narrowing her eyes in confusion, Anna could think of nothing to say apart from, "And just what makes you think I would ever do anything that you ask of me?"

"Simple," he stated, placing his front directly in front of her to reveal a photograph of Yash in a different room, tape over his mouth and a face that was beaten so badly, she hardly recognized him. "If you don't do as I say, Anna … someone will answer for it. That much I can assure you."

**_Later That Night_ **

Corvus watched in silence, the winds outside gradually slowing as Hermione released her breath, quietly stepping away from Ron and absently wiping his blood from her hands as he drifted into a state of dreamless sleep inside the tent. For hours he had writhed and shouted in pain, sweating hard and bleeding heavy, jolting in and out of consciousness as the brunette in front of him rolled her sleeves up and extracted whatever the Black Coat had shot at him out of his chest.

Another inch to the left and it would have put a hole straight through his heart.

In the end it was Hermione's steady hands and quick thinking that had saved his life. Without her Corvus would never have realized that Ron had been shot with anti-magic and that any attempts at using Healing magic to stop the bleeding would only have made it worse.

Only after Hermione had plopped the anti-magic onto a tray, the echo of it breaking the silence in the tent as Corvus did all he could to help, was it safe enough to apply even the smallest ounce of Healing magic. Truthfully he'd never seen anything like it. The determination in the brunette's eyes as she did all she could to stop the bleeding and to tend to the deep, gaping wound that had nearly taken Ron from their world.

As a child Corvus had read about Hermione Granger, the countless ways in which she had helped defeat Voldemort. He had always struggled to believe it, but after having spent hours with her in that tent, he could see there was something remarkable about this witch. She was strong in ways he couldn't even begin to understand.

Suddenly he could see why Ron was so wrapped up in whatever had happened between them. If there was anyone in the world that was sharp enough to cut back at Ron Weasley with twice the edge, it was Hermione Granger.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she took one last look at Ron and then nodded, firmly. "He should be up and about fairly soon. A few days at most."

Corvus fixed a quick, hesitant look in her direction. "I, uh … I can take first watch if you want to grab a drink of water or get some air or something."

"Oh, that's okay. You go on."

"I insist," he added, gently. "You've been at it for hours. At least get something to eat."

Swallowing the rush of uncertainty in her throat, Hermione glanced between the tent flaps to find that the sun had already vanished beneath the horizon. Only then did she seem to realize just how long she'd been there, her sleeves still rolled to her elbows, and her hands still covered in blood. With a short gulp she backed away from Ron's body and nodded once to Corvus as if in thanks, quietly climbing out of the tent without another word.

"There you have it," Corvus uttered in the quiet after, to Ron's unconscious form. "I was right. She doesn't hate you."

* * *

Thomas rolled his eyes, impatiently. "Are you just going to sit here like a child or are you going to be a man and apologize to her?" he snapped at Draco, breaking the wizard's train of thought as an exhausted, bloodied up Granger climbed out of the tent and vanished into the forest.

Swallowing hard, Draco redirected his attention to the campfire where he and Thomas had been ordered to wait whilst Granger and Corvus did the heavy lifting. "Now's not the time," he uttered back, as if mostly to himself.

"It's never going to be the time. Not unless you make it. That's how this shit works."

"And I thought Anna was bad at minding her own business."

To his disappointment, Thomas only smirked in response. "If you're trying to get a rise out of me so you don't feel like shit anymore, it's not working."

Draco narrowed his eyes into a glare. "You really are like Potter, aren't you?"

"Who?"

"No one," he grumbled, reluctantly rising to his feet. "I'm going for a walk."

* * *

Kneeling down by the lake, Hermione dipped her hands beneath the calm, reflective surface and slowly washed the blood away, the soft swirls of red vanishing into nothingness amidst the moon and the clouds and the clusters of stars shining down on the deep body of water from above. She had made a conscious effort to keep her emotions under control in that tent, but alone now where the rest of them couldn't see the anguish in her eyes, she relived every moment of it.

Somehow she managed to save him, but she knew deep down that this was only the beginning. If only one of Kharon's men was capable so much, there was no telling what the lot of them could do together.

"Granger?"

Hurriedly wiping her eyes, Hermione bounced just one look over her shoulder to find a tall, pale-haired wizard hovering by the trees, roughly ten steps away. Chest clenching at the sight of him, the depth of emotion in his grey eyes, she quickly glanced away, not a word of response escaping her lips. In that moment she had nothing to say. Nothing that she felt needed to be said. There was too much to do. Too many people relying on them to stay levelheaded and focused.

Only as he approached her did she rise to her feet and brush the dirt from her knees, walking past him and starting towards the trees before he finally said something.

"I should have told you," Malfoy uttered, swiftly breaking the silence between them. "You're my partner and I … I should have told you."

Squeezing her eyes closed as she forced a breath down her throat, Hermione offered him the only words she could manage just then. "Why didn't you?"

"He asked me not to. If it weren't for him, Kharon's men would have found me on the other end of that road and dragged me back to the warehouse to die. I figured it was the least I could do to keep his secret for him … at least until I could speak to him again and convince him otherwise."

She bit down on the words that she wanted to say, tilting her head down to the ground. "I s'pose that's fair enough then."

"Granger, I wanted to tell you."

"Well, you didn't."

"I-I was going to. Really, I was. I just —"

"Do you know what? We haven't the time. Just forget it."

"I can't do that."

"I need you to try."

"We can't just ignore the problem, Granger."

"There is no problem. It's okay."

"Clearly it's not."

"No, Malfoy. The only thing that's clear in this moment is that we're fucked," she blurted, facing him now and pointing in the direction of the clearing where she had spent hours fighting to save Ron's life. "That was just one man. One. Wh-what in Merlin's name are we going to do when it's all of them?"

For a second he said nothing, simply looking her in the eyes as if he were too afraid to speak the truth into existence. "We'll find a way."

She released a short, humourless laugh. "Could you just be Slytherin again for a fucking moment and acknowledge the fact that hope and friendship and love isn't enough this time?"

"Granger."

"What?" she snapped. "It's true. Y-you didn't see what I saw back there."

"So, then, tell me what you saw," he countered, as if it were that simple. "Talk to me, Granger."

Instinctively turning away again, she was surprised by the feeling of his hand as he quickly made a grab for hers. "What is it now?" she sighed, if only to hide the quiver of relief along her bottom lip. It was a lot in that moment, just the touch of another person after everything she had felt and seen and heard in that tent.

He held on loosely, weaving his fingers between hers before then giving her hand a soft squeeze as if to remind her that he was there and that she was under no obligation to carry that weight on her own. "Talk to me," he said again, softer this time.

Forcing her eyes closed for only a moment, she tried to hold it in but couldn't. "He nearly died."

"Nearly. But you saved him, didn't you?"

"Just barely."

"You say that like it doesn't count."

"They shot him with anti-magic," she blurted out, breathlessly. "Corvus and I saved him tonight, but it's only a matter of time before this happens again."

"We know how to fight it. That's all that matters."

Chest clenching at the sound of that, she swallowed, firmly. "And if we're too late next time? I-I don't know about you, but I can't go on like this. I can't keep losing people."

Malfoy stilled, allowing those words to sink in before he offered his own. "Losing people is part of the job."

Blinking up at her partner in quiet disbelief, Hermione pulled her hand away. "Listen to yourself, Malfoy. This isn't okay. None of this is okay."

"Do you think I don't know that?" he furthered, searching through her eyes. "Granger, I hate this as much as you do, but if we don't fight, who will?"

"Tell me one thing," she cut in, sharply. "Would you be singing the same tune if it had been your ex-girlfriend in that tent, bleeding all over you and writhing in pain and shouting for you to end her suffering as you extracted the anti-magic from the gaping hole in her chest? Astoria, was it?"

He said nothing in response, falling silent at the sound of that name.

"That's what I thought," she uttered after, brushing past him and hugging her arms tightly against the frigid winds, the weight of her words resting heavily in her chest before she then halted mid-step, glancing back at him as he came towards her.

Throat clenching around her breath, she looked up at him in shock as he grabbed her by the wrist and spun her flush against a tree, hovering inches away, the warmth of his breath fanning her lips before he then forced it down and sharpened his eyes into a look of anger and then agony and then emptiness like nothing she had ever seen from him before.

"Our first week here you asked me why I agreed to the mission," he began. "I told you that it was because I had nothing to lose, and I didn't, but that was only because I had already lost what was most important to me."

She didn't dare speak a word, the trees around them swaying with the wind in the long stretch of silence that followed.

Looking her in the eyes, Malfoy slowly inched away. "Weasley may have been shot, Granger, but at least he's still breathing. If that's not reason enough to keep fighting, I don't know what is."

Only as he said that, did she realize what he was getting at, her heart sinking to the ground. "I … I had no idea," she said to him, feeling stupid. "I would never have … had I known I'd have … it was never my intention to …"

He made a hand motion as if to tell her to stop talking, turning away after. "Just … just forget it."

"Malfoy, I'm sorry."

Without looking back he walked away, leaving her with her back against the tree as if he had no words left to say, no desire to even look at her again. The thought of it left her breathless, silent, terrified in ways she didn't think possible. He was there but he wasn't. Only then did she suck in a deep breath and race towards him, cutting between the trees before finally grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around.

"Granger, just stop —"

"Y-you were right," she confessed, panting through it. "I care. I care about you so much it scares me. That's why I can't do this anymore, Malfoy. One of these days it could be you in that tent or on the road or in the warehouse and I-I — I just — I've been living in fear of that day for so long I-I can't think straight."

The rigidity in his face only deepened. "You've got Weasley now."

"This isn't about Ron."

He tensed at the sound of that. "What are you saying, Granger?"

"I'm saying I need you to keep the promise you made me this morning," she furthered, hurriedly wiping her eyes. "Now more than ever."

"And if I can't?"

"Please, Malfoy. P-please just … just …"

Bottom lip trembling as he tried to hold it in, Malfoy released his breath and swiftly wrapped his arms around the brunette, pulling her in and sinking his head along the warmth of her neck as she held on. She didn't know how badly she needed to be close to him until that very moment. And it appeared neither did he. Within seconds of the initial embrace, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her in the middle of the forest, not a trace of light anywhere around them as he then leaned a bit closer, the ends of his hair dancing along her forehead just a moment before their lips slowly touched.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One:**

"The first and most important part," Thomas began, aligning his firearm with an empty soup can in the distance. " … is trigger management. Don't even think about putting your finger anywhere near the trigger unless you mean to shoot. In order to get to that point you first have to align your sights, make sure you're aware of your surroundings and then and only then when you've made a conscious decision to shoot, do you place your finger within the trigger guard and press it down."

With that he slowly and carefully did exactly as he described, effortlessly putting a hole through one of the cans in the distance, the quiet  _ding_  of it echoing through the forest in the seconds after.

Draco tensed, having read countless articles on Muggle firearms and the dangers of them.

The idea of shooting holes through his enemies made his stomach turn as if he'd eaten Granger's cooking, but it was for her sake that he'd forced himself to at least learn.

If The Collective were so intent on shooting holes through his body, he figured it was only polite to show the same kindness in return.

"Do you want to give it a try?" Thomas asked, breaking the wizard's train of thought.

Swallowing hard, Draco nodded, carefully taking hold of the firearm as Thomas gave it to him in the quiet of the forest.

By then it was morning, the events of the previous night weighing heavily in Draco's chest.

"Okay," Thomas interjected, breaking the wizard's train of thought. "Hold it with both hands like I showed you, bend your knees slightly for more stability and then slowly raise your weapon," he instructed, waiting until Draco followed before continuing. "Now this is what most people have a hard time with on their first try. Once you've aligned your sights on that can, you've got to press down on the trigger slowly as if you're squeezing the shot out instead of firing it off at random."

With a deep breath Draco gave it his best, aligning his sights on his target, which happened to be an empty soup can, the trees behind them ruffling in the morning winds as he then grazed the tip of his finger along the trigger and gave it a slow, firm squeeze.

 _Ding_.

His eyes widened in shock.

"You're sure you've never done this before?" Thomas asked, just as shocked if not more.

Carefully lowering the weapon, Draco released his breath. "Quite sure."

"Well, shit. I guess we can move on to combat shooting faster than I thought."

"Won't we run out of rounds?"

"Not if we make every shot count," Thomas clarified. "You're better off with one round that you know how to use than twenty that you don't."

Draco lifted an eyebrow at him. "What are you, ex-military?"

"No, but I was raised by a guy who was."

"Your father, you mean?"

"That's one word for him," Thomas snorted, taking hold of the second firearm, the one Weasley had swiped from a Black Coat, before then effortlessly shooting another hole through the can. "I take it you grew up pretty nice?"

Raising his firearm and aligning his sights, Draco gave it a moment of thought. "That depends," he decided, squeezing out another shot only to frown as he missed his target by inches. "Shit."

"It can't have been that bad."

"It wasn't bad. Just complicated," he offered, resisting the urge to go into further detail. The less he said, the better. "What about you? Is your mother ex-military as well?"

"No, she was a writer."

"Was?"

Thomas nodded. "Got sick when I was really young. I don't remember much about her outside of those last few months when I was nine."

Fixing a quick look in the bouncer's direction, Draco was wordless for a moment. "Sorry to hear that."

"It was a long time ago," Thomas shrugged, pointing his firearm at the can for a third time before then squeezing out another shot and allowing the echo of it to fill the silence that followed. "You know … most people would think to stay away from the guy whose girlfriend they snuck around with for five months."

Draco stilled at the sound of that. "Most people live in fear."

"You don't?"

Pressing down on the trigger again, he put a hole straight through the top of the can. "I have my fears like everyone else. I just don't let them get in the way of what needs to be done."

Thomas allowed those words to sink in. "I guess that's one thing we have in common."

"One more thing, you mean."

"Right. Anna."

"Er … I was thinking more along the lines of a complicated childhood," Draco quickly inserted. "But Anna works, too."

Glaring at him dully, Thomas pressed down on the trigger once more, this time hitting the can in such a way that it went flying backwards and flattened perfectly against a tree all in the space of one second. It was safe to say he wasn't ready to joke about Anna.

And that he'd probably imagined Draco's face on that can.

* * *

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he'd heard two different voices.

One man and one woman. Both of them familiar. Although he couldn't work out the words they were saying, he sensed they were helping him, memories of what happened in the forest coming back to him in pieces. Every inch of his body was in pain, but the most painful aspect of it all were the choices that he'd made leading up to this moment.

The choices that were all slowly coming back to him as he drifted away again.

_She was beautiful of course, but almost suspiciously so. When she wasn't going for morning runs around the block where she lived or snapping photographs of various buildings and street corners around the city, she was either sipping on a glass of wine in the quiet of her lounge or waiting for someone to buy her a drink at the pub down the street. It was a different bloke each time but they were always consumed by her every word, movement and glance before then ending the night in the dimness of her apartment as she shrugged her dress off and rode them in plain view._

_The first time it happened, Ron had lowered his omnioculars to give her privacy, having watched her from the shadows of the empty apartment across the street, waiting for even the smallest sign that she was the same squib he had been sent there to find, but as the days had turned swiftly into weeks, he began to wonder if maybe after years of hiding, some small part of this woman wanted to be seen._

_On the fifth day of the third week, when she extracted a folded piece of parchment from within the book on her bedside table and spent hours marking it before then heading out to the pub, he decided it was time to finally introduce himself._

_"Sorry to bother you, but … I believe you dropped this on your way in," Ron began, the ambient rhythm of music, chatter and clinking drinking glasses bouncing within the walls of the pub as he smoothly made his way over to one of the women at the bar._

_She was tall, leggy and dressed in a top that left little to the imagination, and the very second she glanced over to him to find her slim, smooth black phone in his grasp, her eyes widened and she immediately stopped rummaging through her designer bag. "Oh! I'm such an idiot! I-I thought I forgot it on the train," she blurted, hurriedly taking the device into both hands as she breathed the longest sigh of relief he'd ever heard. "Thank you so much. Honestly, I-I was so worried that I'd never see it again. All of my work messages and photos from back home are on there. You're like … such a good person for bringing it to me. Seriously."_

_Making a hand motion as if to brush off the last bit, Ron ordered himself a whiskey neat. "It was the least I could do," he then said. "My first week here I forgot my laptop in a café and returned a minute later to find that someone had already swiped from the table."_

_Her mouth fell open. "That's awful!"_

_With only a shrug, he sipped on his drink._

_"I'm Rachel by the way," she introduced, after a moment of hesitation. "Originally from Sonoma and completely terrified of New York so far … in case I haven't made it obvious enough."_

_He chuckled, lifting his drink to her in hello as she did the same. "I'm Hugo."_

_"From England, I take it?"_

_"Born and raised," he nodded. "Also … New York isn't so terrifying. Give it a month or two and you'll be glaring random people up and down like the best of them."_

_She softly laughed. "That'll be the day. My family was so worried when I told them I was going to be moving here. I'm the youngest, so they all still think of me as the five-year-old who got her head stuck in the dog door that one time."_

_Lips twitching with amusement, he couldn't help but ask. "Exactly how hard did they laugh when they found you like that?"_

_"Oh, they had tears streaming down their faces," she added, snorting at the memory. "Got to love the fact that they left me like that for an entire twenty minutes before even trying to get me out."_

_"That's family for you."_

_"Right? I mean, shit, I'm already starting to miss them and it's only been a week." Releasing one deep breath, she shook her head as if to shake those feelings away, looking to him after. "Enough about me, though. What's your story, Hugo? If you don't mind my asking."_

_He gave it a moment of thought. "Er … not much to it. I grew up in London with just my parents and older sister, studied law in school, took up writing when I realized law wasn't for me, moved here about a year ago and still haven't unpacked all of my things despite my girlfriend's constant reminders."_

_Falling silent at the mention of a girlfriend, Rachel opened and closed her mouth multiple times, hurriedly trying to find something to say to distract from the brush of disappointment in her eyes. "That's … cool."_

_In part Ron felt bad involving her in his plan, but it was important that he established himself as a man who was completely and utterly unavailable, because as it happened, there was a woman a couple of stools to his left who had been listening to every word he'd said._

_From the moment he'd first approached Rachel with the phone that he'd summoned out of her bag when she had entered the pub twenty minutes prior to meet with a Tinder date that had coincidentally never showed._

_"I, uh … I should probably get going before I miss my train," Rachel decided, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears as she rose to her feet. "It was nice talking to you, though."_

_"You as well," Ron said to her, sincerely. "And for what it's worth, Rachel, I'm sure New York will feel like home to you in no time."_

_She smiled at that, as if without knowing. "Thanks, Hugo."_

_Moments later, after the beautiful, leggy Rachel from Sonoma had pushed through the front door of the pub and made her way onto the glistening pavement where she then called a cab instead of taking the train home like she had said she was going to, Ron turned his body to the front of the bar, quietly swirling his whiskey as he felt the woman to his left fix a swift, indiscreet look in his direction._

_Without missing a beat, she smirked, taking in a small sip of wine before bothering to utter even just one word. "That was quite the performance."_

_He glanced over, taking note of the fact that her glass was still mostly full and that she had pulled together a more casual ensemble of jeans, white shirt and leather jacket that night, as if she'd not intended to pull._

_Only he knew better. "Sorry?"_

_"That girl back there," she clarified, a knowing glimmer in her eyes. "She was about ready to get on her knees for you before you said you had a girlfriend."_

_For a moment he said nothing, allowing the silence to speak for him as he sipped his whiskey. "I s'pose it matters to some people."_

_Her smirk deepened. "Not to you, though."_

_"What makes you say that?" he calmly asked._

_"Body language," she uttered, as if it were that simple. "You were turned completely towards her the entire time, smiling at her with your eyes instead of your lips and hanging on the edge of her every word to distract from the fact that you had memorized the outline of her nipples within the first ten seconds of your conversation."_

_His eyebrows shot up, in more of an amused fashion than anything else. "You got all of that from a quick chat about phones and dog doors?"_

_"No, I got all of that from the little lie you told her."_

_"What lie would that be?" he smirked, only a touch nervous._

_"You don't have a girlfriend," she plainly stated, taking in another sip of wine. "In fact you don't even want one and the only reason you said you had one back there was to remove any hopes she may have had in turning what could have been a quick fuck in the bathroom into the relationship she wants and probably needs."_

_He narrowed his eyes at her, curiously. "And if you're right?"_

_"If I'm right," she smiled, gathering her soft, pale waves of hair to one side, revealing her neck to him in such a way that it may as well have been a different part of her body entirely. "You can go ahead and tell me all about your little girlfriend over a drink at my place."_

_Wordless for a few seconds, he could hardly believe that his plan had worked. "Count me in, er …"_

_"Gemma," she introduced, her first lie of the night. "And your name?"_

_"Hugo," he repeated, even though he was sure that she had already overheard that bit from when he'd talked to Rachel earlier. "Now how about that drink?"_

_Without another word she motioned for him to follow her through the door, and he did, knowing in the back of his mind that he had to put on an even better performance at her apartment if he'd any hope of getting his hands on that parchment without waking her_.

* * *

Hermione washed her hands in the bathroom sink, having changed Ron's bandages again for the second time that day. Although she and Corvus had managed to stop him from bleeding out the previous night using Dittany and other forms of Healing magic, they had quickly discovered the following morning that there were still traces of anti-magic in his wound, which had slowed his recovery from the hours it should have taken, to possibly days.

Releasing a deep breath, she stretched her neck along both sides, grasping the edge of the sink as she then tilted her head down and gave herself a moment to gather her thoughts.

To her knowledge Malfoy and Thomas had left hours ago to practice shooting and to stand guard over the safe house in case any Black Coats came wandering through the forest with another one of those trackers in hand.

By Hermione's suggestion the group had relocated from camp to the safe house that morning, where they had enough supplies to go around and where they could keep an eye on Psyche, Eric and Ron at once.

Only in the seconds after, as she heard a knock on the door, did she snap out of it, quickly turning the water down before then blurting the first words that came to mind. "S-sorry, I'll be out in just a moment."

Corvus said something on the other side, his words muffled by the door until Hermione opened it to find dinner on the kitchen table. A full spread of food and drinks. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of it, reminding her that she'd not sat down for a proper meal in nearly a week.

"Did you make all of this?" she asked, glancing to Corvus as he finished setting the table.

Nodding once, he carried on setting down forks and placing glasses in front of each of the chairs. "I figured we might as well have a nice dinner together. There are only so many campfire dinners I can have before I want to throw myself into one."

Hermione quietly chuckled, settling into one of the chairs. "Well, I'm certainly not complaining. I've had coffee for dinner for three straight days."

"It's a miracle you and Draco made it five months."

"Oh, I know. He's not so bad in the kitchen, though. Just lazy."

"Where is he anyway? And Thomas for that matter."

"Er …" Glancing through one of the back windows, Hermione saw nothing but darkness, the sun having already vanished beneath the horizon. "They should be on their way."

With a small shrug, Corvus sat down, plating dinner for just him and the brunette as if to say the other two could eat the dirt form the bottom of their shoes for all he cared. "So, uh … I've given some thought to what you said and I've decided that I want to help," he began, after a moment of just chewing and swallowing. "I'll speak to Psyche first thing in the morning."

"That means a lot," Hermione made sure to say, with the utmost sincerity. "Truly. You've already helped in so many different ways. If it weren't for you, Ron would have … he would have …"

"If it weren't for me, Ron wouldn't have been shot," Corvus confessed, his face paling as he said the rest. "Those Black Coats were after me before he jumped in."

Only then did Hermione see it, the weight that Corvus had been carrying on his shoulders all that time. "It's not your fault, Corvus."

"You weren't there. If I hadn't frozen up, he would never have had to come save me."

"That doesn't matter. All that matters is that you haven't left his side since," she countered, softly but firmly all the same. "You're a strong wizard. I mean that."

He hesitated a moment, as if he'd never heard those words directed at him before. Not once. "Do you really?"

"Of course," she said to him, unquestionably. "Malfoy and Thomas would have raced out of that tent the moment the blood started pouring out. But you didn't. You stayed and you took control."

Exhaling deeply at the memory, Corvus gave her a look of thanks. "I, uh … I know this is going to sound kind of weird coming from someone you've just met, but … I'm beginning to see why Ron respects you so much. You're like … a really nice person."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, lightly. "I've had my moments when I've not been so nice."

"Like when?"

"Well, for one, I smacked Malfoy across the face in third year."

"He probably deserved it, though."

"Oh, he did," she smirked. "But of course, violence is never the answer. The following morning I went into Potions class early and placed a vial of Murtlap Essence on his desk before he arrived."

Corvus snorted with laughter. "Surely you didn't hit him  _that_  hard."

"No, but I did hit him hard enough that he fell to the ground and split his lip against the toe of his friend's boot," she remembered, pressing her mouth closed to keep from laughing at the memory. "Oddly enough I think he knew the Murtlap Essence was from me. In part because he looked at me the moment he saw it and realized what it was, and in part because he then flung it across the room and shattered the vial to pieces."

Eyebrows twitching up, Corvus held the silence for just a moment before he smirked, knowingly. "So, not only are you a nice person. You're also nice to people who don't deserve it."

"Malfoy's not so undeserving. Not anymore."

"What about Psyche?" he then asked, bringing a long stretch of silence to the conversation in the moments after. "Most people would have done far worse to her than lock her up in a wood shed."

Hermione took in a small bite of food, gently swallowing it as she fell deep into thought. "I could be wrong, but after having read a few pages of her journal, I feel that maybe she's not the person she's made herself out to be these past few months."

"Years."

"Sorry?"

"Years," Corvus repeated, poking at his food now. "She changed a long time ago."

"In what way?"

He shrugged. "In all the ways. It started when we first discovered the cave together years ago. At the time I just thought it was something we were doing as family, to feel more connected to what we lost. But then she began going on about actually  _using_  the anti-magic. Making rings and other devices from it like what our mother's aunt wanted to do before she was locked up." Gulping at the memory, he forced his eyes closed. "I-I never would have agreed to open the cave for her had I known this was going to happen. Sh-she promised me that she wasn't going to involve Kharon. I've always hated that guy. He's the same manipulative piece of shit that he was back then. If it weren't for him … if it weren't for him, none of this would be happening right now."

Allowing those words to sink in, Hermione opened her mouth to offer some encouraging words, only to stop as she heard one of the last bits again, in the back of her mind. "Sorry, did you say that you  _opened_  the cave?"

Corvus nodded, distantly as he tried pulling himself out of those painful memories. "The First Ones sealed it with blood magic from the outside. Once the war had ended. Psyche tried to open it using her own blood at first, but given that she's a squib, it didn't work."

"How did you know where to find it? The cave, I mean."

"My mother's aunt spent her entire life searching for it," he explained. "Without her research, we would never have found the cave. It's that side of the family that's connected to the First Ones. In fact the first known anti-magic ring was passed down on that side of the family for years. They didn't know its true power at the time, and they never wore it for obvious reasons, but Gemma Clarke was a squib, so it didn't have the same impact on her that it did everyone else. When she finally got her hands on it, she put it on and started having these weird dreams. It was like a … a window into the past or something."

Hermione said nothing, opting only to listen as she carefully began taking notes as if she were in class.

"Whoever that ring had originally belonged to, their memories began seeping into Gemma's head as she slept," Corvus went on to say. "She tried drawing what she saw, writing it down … telling her family about it. But no one took her seriously. She was the only squib, the only one with the power to awaken the ring and the memories attached to it. For years she tried finding the cave that she saw in her dreams, but the cave was sealed, hidden away for our own protection. By the time she realized she needed blood magic to open it, the magical friend that she had turned to for help, had then gone straight to the MACUSA and told them that Gemma was looking into blood magic."

"And then she was locked away," Hermione gathered, the pieces all slowly falling into place.

Corvus released a deep breath. "So, what's your family like?" he jokingly asked, moments before the back door clicked open to reveal Thomas and Malfoy, finally having returned from shooting practice and immediately sitting down at the table the second they laid eyes on the spread of food that had been waiting for them.

**_Later That Night_ **

Once he'd finished his dinner and had a quick shower, Draco made his way onto the front porch, where he knew she was going to be.

"How was it?" Granger asked, instinctively making room for him on the topmost step. "Your day with Thomas, I mean."

He shrugged, his shoulder brushing up against hers as he sat down. "I'm still alive, so it didn't go as horribly wrong as I'd thought it was going to."

Laughing at that, Granger glanced to him, the warm brown of her eyes softening a little. "I have a question."

"Go on."

"Did you know the Murtlap Essence was from me?" she asked, earning a confused look from the wizard before he realized what she was referring to.

"The Murtlap Essence that I threw across the room, unbeknownst to the fact that Professor Snape was standing directly behind me, you mean?"

"Er … yes."

He smirked in response. "Of course I knew. Who else in third year would have been able to brew a potion like that but you?"

"Is that why you threw it across the room?"

"That and the fact that I didn't want to admit that I needed it."

Exchanging an amused, knowing look with him, Granger then inched closer, wordlessly resting her head along his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, lightly. "About what happened last night …" she then said, quietly. "I just … I want to thank you for … for …"

"For kissing you?" Draco asked, slowly lifting an eyebrow.

Granger rolled her eyes at him, playfully. "For being there for me," she clarified. "The kiss was a nice touch, though."

"Is that why you ran off like a little fifth year after?"

"That and the fact that I didn't want to admit I needed it," she quipped, earning a soundless laugh from the Slytherin before he slowly leaned in and ghosted his lips along hers in another kiss, this time deepening it just enough to show that he needed it just as badly. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two:**

Thomas awoke to the sound of his phone, slowly sitting up on the couch as he took the vibrating device in his hands and rubbed the exhaustion from the corners of his eyes. It was the middle of the night, the skies outside still shrouded in darkness and the rest of the group still fast asleep. At first he thought that perhaps one of them was calling him to let him know that they had gone out on a supply run of some sort, but as he took one look at the name on the screen, his eyes widened in a state of shock.

Without a moment of thought, he accepted the call, hurriedly pushing through the front door and stumbling out onto the porch as he pressed the phone to his ear. "Anna? Anna, are you there?" he blurted, his heart pounding so hard in his chest, he could almost hear it.

There was nothing at first, not a sound on the other end apart from soft, short breaths. "Thomas?" she choked out, in tears. "It-it's me. I-I'm here."

He froze at the sound of her voice, the air escaping his lungs so fast, he could hardly make sense of the fact that he was speaking to her. "Anna, what's going on? H-how are you calling me right now? Are you okay? What have they done to you? Talk to me."

"I don't have time to explain. I-I need you to listen to me."

Peeling his lips apart to let her know that he was on his way over right then and there, his efforts were thwarted as she uttered her next words.

"Her brother," she began. "Psyche's brother. Corvus. Is he with you?"

Thomas tensed at the sound of that. "How do you know about him?"

"I don't have time to explain," Anna repeated, sucking in quickly before she said the rest. "Listen to me carefully. You can't trust him. Corvus. H-he's not who he says he is. Do you understand?"

Chest in knots, the bouncer fell silent. "If he's not who he says he is, then who is he?"

"You won't believe me even if I tell you," she said to him, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I-I have to go now. Kharon's going to be back any minute."

"Anna, wait!"

"I-I can't. I'm sorry, Thomas. Just keep in mind what I said and don't tell anyone that I called. I-I need you to promise me."

"But, Anna, I —"

"He's opening the door. I-I have to go. I'll call you again soon. I love you."

Before he could so much as open his mouth to say those same words back, the call was over, and he was completely motionless.

**_Later That Day_ **

"How is he?" Malfoy asked, hovering by the door as Hermione tended to Ron, dipping the folded white cloth in her hand into a bowl of freshly brewed Essence of Dittany before then slowly and carefully draping it along the wound.

By then it was morning, the skies above shrouded in thick, grey storm clouds and the windows of the safe house mottled in rain. Not a sound could be heard apart from the muffled  _pitter patter_  of it along the rooftop.

"For now he appears to be recovering," Hermione uttered, only after brushing the hair away from the sleeping wizard's forehead, the fiery red roots drenched in sweat. "Do you think some distant part of him can hear the words we're saying?"

Malfoy slid his hands into his pockets, slowly finding the brunette's side. "Possibly. I can always come back later if you'd like a moment alone with him."

Chest clenching softly inside her top, Hermione set the cloth down in the bowl. "Actually it's  _you_  that I'd like a moment alone with," she gently confessed, facing him in the seconds after. "Those few days when I'd lost my magic because of the stamp, you helped me reawaken it. I … I know this is going to sound absolutely mad, but I was thinking we could give it another go. Put various quantities of anti-magic to the test to try and see just how is too much. Tonight."

For a moment Malfoy said nothing, simply lifting an eyebrow at his partner. "Are you asking me to have sex with you again for the sake of research?"

Hermione quickly frowned, elbowing him the moment he started to laugh. "I was referring to the magical development exercises that you said your mother used to do with you when you were a child, you massive git."

"I like my idea better," Malfoy smirked, earning a second elbow from his partner before the pair of them immediately stopped, fixing their attention back on Ron as he began stirring in his sleep. "Shit. Maybe he really can hear us."

Pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, Hermione went back to work without a moment of hesitation. "Be sure to close the door on your way out."

"Gladly," her partner smiled, giving her a swift and unexpected kiss on the cheek before he raced out of the bedroom, narrowly dodging a third elbow.

* * *

Releasing a deep breath, Corvus paced outside of the wood shed as it rained, his hair and his coat completely soaked through. "I can do this," he uttered to himself, unbeknownst to the fact that he had company, watching him from the back porch of the house. "I-I can do this. I can do this. I'm not a child anymore. I can face her. I-I can —"

"Here," Thomas interjected, leaning away from the back porch as he then walked over and threw a bottle of whiskey to the young wizard. "Take a shot. It'll help with the nerves."

Catching the bottle just seconds before it could fall, Corvus glanced down at it and then up at the bouncer, question marks in his eyes. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough."

Unperturbed if not for the twitch of his bottom lip, the younger of the two then opened the bottle and downed an entire mouthful, wiping the dribble with the back of his hand in the seconds after. "I have a question."

Thomas effortlessly caught the bottle in one hand as Corvus threw it back to him. "What is it?"

"What made you want to leave?"

"The Collective, you mean?"

Corvus nodded. "From what I remember of that night at  _Afterlife_ , you were one of Kharon's most trusted guys."

Swallowing firmly, Thomas suddenly thought back to it. "Right. I was there the night that —"

"The night Kharon ordered you guys to inject me with anti-magic," Corvus finished, watching as the colour slowly drained from the bouncer's face. "He wanted to see how powerful it was, what it would do to a magical, and then I came walking in … the only person who had ever called him out on his shit."

For a moment Thomas said nothing, the wheels in his mind slowly turning. "So, it really was you that night."

"Of course it was. Who else could it have been?"

Ignoring the question, Thomas narrowed his eyes at the wizard, curiously. "One thing before I go back inside," he began. "How did you make it out alive? From what I remember you were barely hanging on and your magic was gone."

Corvus stilled in response, memories of that night slowly coming back to him, in distant, broken pieces. "I'll let you know when I find out."

Without another word he turned his back to the bouncer, slowly and carefully opening the door to the wood shed as he made his way inside.

* * *

_For a moment, just a split second in the dimness of that apartment, the rigidity in her eyes melted away. She sucked in sharply and threw her head back, knocking it loudly against the headboard as he weaved his fingers between hers and pinned her hands firmly to the bed, pushing in deeply as she then unraveled at the height of it all._

_Only then did he follow her in her release, gently biting down on her bottom lip as she choked on the moans that she had tried so hard to hold in, breathlessly kissing him back as they rode it out together._

_In part he was shocked at himself for having gone so far to get his hands on a piece of parchment that could very well have been of no significance to the mission, and in part he was ready to sink even deeper into the darkness. Rolling away from her in the quiet after, he stared up at the white ceiling, slowly gathering his breath as she did the same, inches away._

_"Get out," she uttered to him once it was over, the look in her eyes pained and the corners filled warmly with the words that she had left unspoken._

_He looked to her, wordless for a moment. "Did I hurt you?"_

_"No. Now get out."_

_"Gem."_

_"Don't call me that."_

_"Gemma," he corrected, earning a swift glare from the squib as he then sat up seconds after she did, taking her hand and weaving her fingers between hers again before she could walk away. "I won't stay this time if that's really what you want."_

_"Of course it's what I want," she bit out, snapping a look at him over her shoulder as she yanked her hand away and climbed out of bed, wrapping a bed sheet around her body on her way to the bathroom. "If you're not gone by the time I'm done with my shower, I'm going to call the —"_

_Without a word he cut in front of her, blocking her path as she blinked up at him in shock. "What is it?" he then asked her, gently. "What's wrong?"_

_She released a short, humourless laugh. "At least put your cock away before you try to make an idiot out of me."_

_Frowning at that, he grabbed a pillow and placed it over his lower half. "There. Will you tell me what's wrong now?"_

_"Believe me, Hugo. You're better off walking through that door now and going back to wherever the fuck you came from."_

_"What are you saying?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her, so confused he forgot for a moment why he was really there. "Gemma, tell me what's wrong. Please."_

_Swallowing at the last bit, she forced her eyes closed and tried to cut around him, only to stop as he took her by the hand again, slowly turning her back around. Only then, as he brushed the hair away from her face and hovered there with her, waiting for the truth to escape her trembling lips, did she let it happen._

_"I know who you are," she confessed, turning rigid all over again. "And I know why you're here …"_

_He fell silent, his face turning pale as he looked to her. "Gemma …"_

_"You know that's not my name. Don't you, Ron?" she bit out, eyes cradled in the deepest sadness that he had ever seen. "Get out!"_

_With a deep breath he stood there firmly as she pounded her fists against his chest, trying so hard to move him out of her path, only to crumble as she couldn't take it anymore. Slowly her fists fell to her sides, the tightness in them unraveling as she sunk into the warmth of his arms. In the back of his mind he knew should have just walked away like she had told him to. Gone back to London and reported his findings to Kingsley. In fact he had intended to do just that after their first night together, the first night that he had followed her into the dimness of her apartment and pulled his shirt off and tugged her jeans down and put his lips on her in so many different places._

_As it happened, he had stayed with her that night, long after they had found their release. He had stayed and talked to her, consumed by her every word like all the men that had come before him, only there was one small difference._

_She was just as consumed, the realization of which had hit her so swiftly and with such force, she had to see him again, and again after that. One look at her and it was clear how utterly hurt she was. By it all._

_"How long have you known?" he asked, as she slowly backed away from him._

_Turning away, she quickly wiped her eyes as if disgusted by the fact that she'd showed any ounce of emotion at all. "I-I've had my suspicions from the moment you entered that pub."_

_He tensed at that, uncertain as to what else he could have said in that moment apart from, "I can help you if you'll let me, Psyche. That's why I'm here."_

_"Don't call me that."_

_"But that's your name."_

_"You've lied to me since the day we first met," she cut in, turning to look at him. "Sorry to break it to you, Ron, but you don't get to call me by my name."_

_Exhaling deeply, he was silent for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Like I said, I can help you if you'll let me."_

_"How? Take me back to London with you? Put me under Auror protection so he can't find me?" she demanded, laughing at just the thought. "Do you want to know the truth, Ron Weasley? Once he gets his way, and he will, there's not going to be an Auror Office for you to run to."_

_"You don't know that."_

_"I'm the only one who knows that!" she shouted, grabbing the book from her bedside table after, from which she retrieved that folded piece of parchment from within the pages. "This is what you want, isn't it? Well, take it! Take the fucking thing and get out of my sight!"_

_He caught it just as she threw it at chest, unfolding the parchment to find a drawing of a cave. "I … I can help you," he repeated once more, tossing the parchment aside as he then cut in front of her again, blocking the bathroom door. "Please, just … come with me, Psyche. You'll be safe in London. I promise."_

_"Did you not hear me?" she forced out, angry tears rolling down her cheeks. "Once Kharon gets his way … there's not going to be an inch of this world that's safe. Not for me, and especially not for you, Ron."_

_Still taken aback by the sound of his name in her voice, he froze for a moment, the shock of it all slowly tapering away as he looked her deeply in the eyes. "He won't get his way. Not if you fight back."_

_She tried to look away, her efforts swept aside as the wizard cupped her cheek and directed her gaze back at him, softly enough that she could have shoved him off if she wanted to. Instead she breathed in deeply, uttering the only words she thought she would never say again. "If you know about me, then you know about my brother, too. Don't you?"_

_With a small, reassuring nod, he waited for her to continue, having seen old photographs of her and her family in his search._

_"Well, Ron Weasley … this is where the story gets interesting," she went on to explain, speaking softly but firmly at the same time. "My brother exists in this world only because Kharon will get his way in the end."_

_"What do you mean?" he asked of her, searching through her eyes for the answer, only to feel it sneak up on him in that silence that soon followed. "No."_

_To that she smiled, just as torn up as he was in that moment. "Now you know."_

_"It-it can't be."_

_"It is," she interjected. "Now leave. Before you make me do something I can't take back."_

_He forced it away, every ounce of anger and panic and bewilderment that came crashing down on him in that moment. "I'm not going anywhere, Psyche. Not until you let me help you."_

_"You're going to get yourself killed if you don't learn when to walk away."_

_"Maybe that's not such a horrible thing," he countered, rendering her wordless for a second._

_Releasing the breath that she had unknowingly held in, the squib simply looked at him a moment as if waiting for him to take those words back. When he refused to, his silence sinking deep in her chest with each second that she waited, she slowly let the bed sheet fall down to her feet, running her hands through the roots of his hair and pulling him down into a kiss as they made their way back to the bed._

_Only then, as she deepened the kiss and climbed on top of him, looking him in the eyes for just a moment longer, did she accept the fact that he wasn't going anywhere. "Do you really want to help me, Ron Weasley?"_

_He managed only to nod, watching in complete silence as she reached for something else along her bedside table. It was in that one moment, that he realized just how much about him she knew, and just how little he cared to stop her._

_"You're a good wizard," she said to him, just as hurt by it all as he was going to be. "Maybe one day you'll learn that being good will only get you killed in this world … or worse."_

_Just like that, she took the strange little collar that she had retrieved from her bedside table and snapped it around his neck, backing away from him as he slowly began to writhe and toss in pain like he had never felt before. Not during any of the other times that he had changed into his other form. How she knew, he had no idea. All he knew for certain was that she hated this just as much as he did, her next words confirming it._

_"I learned a long time ago not to accept help from any man. The only person who can help me … is me," she uttered, tears streaming down her face. "You should have walked away when you still had the chance …"_

* * *

Gently closing the bedroom door behind her, Hermione made her way to the kitchen to continue working on the translations.

She had neglected them the past couple of days, deciding to focus her efforts on Ron instead. But now that he was slowly getting better, she felt it was time for her to return to her work. Although she had never seen most of the magical runes in those cave photographs before, she had managed to piece together some idea as to what they meant.

Dipping her Quill into a pot of ink, she continued writing away, scratching against the parchment and putting forth her best efforts before her attention drifted slowly to the back window, through which the wood shed was in direct sight.

Her stomach clenched at the thought of Corvus in there, speaking to Psyche on his own.

Although she had only met the young wizard for the first time a couple of days ago, Hermione felt the strangest, most inexplicable need to protect him.

"Granger?"

Glancing in the other direction, to the front door, she found Malfoy hovering there, his coat on as he prepared to go out to the shooting ground with Thomas again. "Leaving already?" she asked.

Without so much as a nod, he came right over, meeting her by the kitchen table as she rose to her feet and blinked up at him. "Be safe whilst I'm gone," he said to her, murmuring the words just inches away from her lips. "Promise me."

"I promise," she murmured back, her eyes quickly falling shut as they kissed again, this time in a way that stayed with her long after.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three:**

Slowly she blinked her eyes open, shifting against her bindings, windswept rain smacking loudly against the outside of the wood shed as she lifted her gaze to the door to find her brother staring back at her. Quite a bit taller and older than when she had last seen him. Were it not for the traces of anxiety in his eyes as he looked to her for the first time in years, she might have mistaken him for Draco Malfoy in her tired state.

Within seconds her eyes began to fill, every ounce of emotion that she had tucked away since the last time she had seen him, rising quickly to the surface and clinging to her lower lashes. "You're really here."

He stayed where he was, the look in his eyes growing more and more pained by the second. "Not because I want to be."

Falling silent at the sound of that, she tilted her head down, nodding as though she'd expected as much. "That's fair."

"They need your help. For Yash and Anna," he went on to say, wasting no time.

Releasing a short, humourless laugh, not a word came to her mind apart from, "You can go ahead and tell your new friends that Yash and Anna are as good as dead."

He quickly tensed. "Psyche, you promised."

"I know that, Cor, and I'll hold up my end like I said I was going to," she let him know. "But you know better than anyone that the end result is going to be the same no matter what we do."

"That doesn't mean it's not worth fighting back."

"Merlin's sake. You sound like one of them."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"It is when you know the fight is ours to lose."

Swallowing the rush of anger in his throat, Corvus was silent for a moment, allowing the truth of the matter to sink in a little deeper. "And if you're wrong?"

"About?"

"Me."

Psyche looked to him as he said it, the rigidity in her eyes tapering away as she found the softest, smallest trace of the young boy that she had raised for all those years after the Death Eaters came knocking on their door. "I would give anything to be wrong about all of this. Anything, Cor. But we both know I'm not."

Without a word Corvus glanced down at the floor, hiding the mix of fear and uncertainty that had pooled along the corners of his eyes. "Th-the warehouse. How do we get in undetected?"

"Cor, can we please just talk for a moment before we get into all of that?"

"I have nothing to say to you," he snapped. "The only reason I'm even standing here speaking to you right now is because they asked me to."

Only then did the tears that she had held in, begin sliding down her cheeks. "You may not know it now, but everything I've done, the people I've hurt … I did it all to protect you."

"Ron could have died, Psyche."

"First of all, I would never have let that happen."

"And second?"

"Second," she uttered, hesitating for only a moment. "I gave him multiple chances to walk away, but he didn't. If you don't believe me, just ask him."

Corvus tensed up, changing direction in the seconds after. "What about Eric and Ian?"

"Eric tried to slip something in one of my drinks after I refused to go home with him one night in New York. The way I see it, he deserved what came to him. In fact he deserved worse. I needed a cover and that's all he was. I was nice … I made sure he was okay, and he was okay right up until Ron had changed his mind about helping me. As for Ian … I really only used him to get an idea as to Kharon's plans," she explained, rendering her brother wordless as he looked to her in a state of shock. "It's not so easy for squibs to protect the people they love. I did what I had to."

Falling silent as her words sunk in, Corvus set aside the mixed feelings in his gut. "Th-the … the warehouse," he then repeated. "How do we get in?"

"Simple."

* * *

"I've done what you asked of me," Anna bit out, the call that she had made to Thomas, still fresh in her mind as she glanced up at Kharon in the quiet of his office, hours later. By then it was nine o'clock in the morning, not that she'd managed to sleep more than a minute or two anyway. "He suspects Corvus now. Just like you wanted. I'm sure of it."

Hovering in front of the window, Kharon turned to look at the barista, having ordered his guards to bring her to him for a private meeting. "Come here," he uttered to her in the seconds after.

Anna swallowed the urge to refuse, slowly finding his side before he then brushed the back of his hand along her cheek and down her arm. Stomach clenching in response, she reminded herself of the fact that Yash was counting on her to play nice.

"There's no need to be afraid," Kharon murmured to her, speaking quietly even though they were the only ones in the room. "I'd like to work  _with_  you, Anna. Not against you."

"What about Yash?" she found herself asking, her lips trembling around the words but the look in her eyes steady, firm. "Y-you promised me that I could speak to him if I called Thomas."

"And you will. At the meeting tomorrow."

"The meeting? What meeting?"

"The meeting that I'm going to be holding at the warehouse tomorrow morning," he furthered, the softest hint of a smile on his lips. "As it turns out, Michael Glass knows some people who are interested in … joining our efforts. Just a few world leaders. Nothing big."

Her throat tightened around her breath.  _World leaders. That can only mean one thing. He … he's going to tell them everything._ Ignoring the rush of panic in her gut, she blinked up at him. "What can I do to help?"

"Oh, good. I was worried that you were going to need more convincing," he voiced, slowly as if waiting for her to break. "You can start by giving your boyfriend another call."

She tensed at the sound of that. "And then?"

"And then," Kharon repeated, brushing a thumb along her cheek and down her neck, stopping as he reached the collar of her shirt. "You'll arrange for him to bring Corvus to me in time for the meeting. Do you think you can do that, Anna?"

"Y-yes. I can do that," she forced out.

His smile deepened. "Good. Very good. Be quick about it and I'll let you walk. You, Thomas and Yash."

Blinking up at him as if she hardly believed it, she watched as he retrieved her phone from inside his desk, placing the device in her hand in the moments after.

* * *

Hermione jolted awake at the kitchen table, hurriedly bouncing a look at the time on her phone to find that it was already ten o'clock. "Shit …" she muttered under her breath, only then coming to realize that she had fallen asleep for an entire hour, the translations still spread out in front of her across the table.

Within seconds she rose to her feet, wiping the corner of her mouth as she then prepared herself a cup of coffee. Somehow all of those sleepless nights had caught up with her in the space of that one hour, reminding her that her efforts were useless without proper rest.

Only as she finished preparing her cup of coffee, softly blowing on it as she brought it to her lips, did she glance through the nearest window and take note of the fact that Corvus was sitting alone on the back porch, staring out into the trees that cradled the safe house.

By that point the rain had slowed, clinging to the grass and the swaying branches overhead.

In a matter of moments Hermione prepared another cup of coffee, bringing both of them out onto the back porch as she quietly made her way through the door and to the young wizard's side. "Bit cold out here, isn't it? I figured you could use something warm to drink," she explained, earning no more than a glance as she handed him the other cup and sat down. "So, how was it?"

"The coffee?" he joked, taking in a mouthful before he set the cup down on the bottom step, the humour in his eyes slowly fading away. "We spoke for a few minutes. She said there's an escape tunnel connected to the warehouse, one that Kharon and his guards don't know about."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow in response. "Well, that's … easy."

"Too easy."

"Do you think she's lying?"

With a deep breath, Corvus shrugged. "I don't know anymore."

Hesitating for a couple of seconds, Hermione offered the only words that felt right. "Thank you," she said to him, sincerely. "For speaking to her. It can't have been easy for you."

"I would hold onto that thanks if I were you," Corvus then said, bringing a twitch of curiosity to the witch's expression before he uttered the rest. "Psyche insists that she's the only one who can locate the tunnel."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Absolutely not."

"That's what I said."

"She's lost her mind if she thinks she's coming with us."

"Once again," Corvus added, downing the rest of his coffee. "That's what I said."

"And then?"

"And then," he repeated. "She reminded me that the forest surrounding the warehouse is massive and guarded, and that if we don't know exactly where to look, there's a chance a Black Coat will find us before we find the door to the escape tunnel."

Tensing at the sound of that, Hermione swallowed, hard. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I."

"How does she even know about the escape tunnel?"

"A few weeks before Kharon had forced her out of The Collective, she said she had arranged for the escape tunnel to be made in secret," he explained. "In case she ever needed it."

"She was suspicious of him," Hermione gathered, falling deep into thought in the moments after. "I wonder … does anti-magic change people if they're exposed to it for too long?"

"Maybe. That would explain a lot."

"I suppose she really is coming with us then …"

Corvus gulped, loudly. "Draco and Thomas are going to love that."

**_Later That Day_ **

Draco aligned his sights, holding his firearm steady in both hands as the frigid morning winds rippled through the trees overhead. That day he and Thomas were shooting at multiple empty soup cans placed at various heights and distances. Although Draco had narrowly missed his first four shots, he was determined to learn and to become familiar enough with shooting that it would come as easily to him as using his wand.

Hovering a few steps behind him, Thomas said nothing, his eyes glued to his phone as if he were waiting for a notification to come through. Only as Draco fired off another shot, the quiet  _ding_  of it echoing throughout the forest, did the bouncer lift his gaze.

"Good," he uttered, hurriedly tucking his phone away. "You're getting better."

To that Draco lifted an eyebrow. "I missed nearly every shot."

"Narrowly. And also, those cans are a lot smaller than Kharon's guards."

"I s'pose that's true …" he thought, out loud, his thoughts drifting slightly. "Granger should have come with us today. Corvus, as well."

Squeezing out a perfect shot, Thomas calmly lowered his weapon. "Speaking of Corvus," he then began. "What are your thoughts on the guy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do you think we can trust him?"

Draco shrugged. "Weasley and Granger seem to trust him enough."

"Do you?"

"Haven't decided," he admitted. "Seems like a nice enough bloke, but he's also Psyche's brother. That's one thing I can't ignore."

Preparing for another shot, Thomas fell silent for a moment before he continued on that very line of thought. "Maybe you shouldn't ignore it."

Then and only then did Draco glance to the bouncer, narrowing his eyes at him curiously. "What makes you say that?"

"Just a thought."

"Seems like more than just a thought," the wizard then added. "I saw you speaking to him earlier … near the wood shed."

Thomas tensed at that sound of that, though it hardly showed in his face. "Is that a problem?"

"You tell me."

A beat of silence followed, wherein the bouncer hesitated, but only briefly. "What if he's not who he says he is?"

"Corvus?"

He quickly nodded. "I mean, when you think about it, the guy pretty much came out of nowhere. A month ago at  _Afterlife_  and now. And apart from a slight similarity in hair colour, he doesn't really even look like Psyche."

Tensing at the sound of that, Draco held the silence a moment. "You're saying he's someone else entirely."

"I'm saying it's worth looking into."

Although the wizard had certainly had his own suspicions about Corvus, he'd not given thought to the truth in those suspicions until then. "Granger's alone with him …"

Swallowing firmly as if the same thoughts had entered his mind, Thomas nodded in the direction of the safe house. "You go on. I'll hang back and clean up a bit."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he insisted, in a way that was utterly believable.

Only in the moments after, as Draco pocketed his firearm and made his way through the thick of the forest, toward the safe house, the crunch of twigs punctuating each of his steps, did he realize he'd left his car keys at the shooting ground. For a split second he thought to keep going, having already traveled half the distance, but something inside him told him to turn back and grab them.

An inexplicable feeling.

The moment he did, slowing his steps as he approached the shooting ground, he heard it. Not the echo of the shot, but the sound of a voice. A woman's voice. Soft and warm and familiar. Without making a sound, Draco ducked behind a tree and listened in as Thomas spoke to this woman over the phone.

 _Anna_.

"Wait! Anna, wait!" Thomas blurted. "Please before you say anything else, just … tell me what's going on."

For a moment there was nothing but breathing on the other end, hurried breathing as if the barista were in a state of panic, hiding in some dark corner of the warehouse as to not be heard by any of the guards. " _I can't explain_ ," she eventually said. " _There's no time. I just … I need you to bring Corvus to the warehouse. That's the only way. Like I said_."

"How do you know Kharon will actually let you and Yash go?"

" _I just … I just know. You have to trust me on this_."

Throat tightening around his breath, Thomas quickly nodded. "Okay. I trust you, Anna. I'll bring him there now."

With that, the call was over, not a sound in the forest apart from the frigid winds as they rippled through the trees and the ends of Draco's coat as he stood there in shock, still hidden away. There were countless thoughts racing through his mind.  _Is Thomas still part of The Collective? Have he and Anna been in contact this whole time? What exactly is Kharon going to do when he gets his hands on Corvus?_ Countless thoughts and countless questions that he hadn't the time to process.

The second he leaned away from the tree, taking no more than a step in the direction of the safe house, he quickly halted.

"How much of that did you hear?" Thomas uttered to him, breaking the silence as he pressed his firearm to the back of Draco's head, flicking the safety off and taking the other one from Draco's pocket in the moments after.

Instinctively raising his arms, Draco turned rigid. "Enough," he stated, firmly. "Whatever it is … whatever he means to do with Corvus … it's not going to end well. You know that."

"Better him than Anna."

"Thomas, you've got to listen to me. This is exactly what Kharon wants. To create distance in the group."

"The group?" Thomas laughed, humourlessly. "There's no group. It's just you and Hermione. All this time I've been waiting, trying to find a way to get Anna out of that warehouse, and now I've finally found one. If it were Hermione in Kharon's clutches, you'd do the same. Don't even try to convince me otherwise."

Draco stilled, his chest pounding so loudly he could feel it in his ears. "You know better than anyone that Kharon can't be trusted."

"I'm not doing this for Kharon. I'm doing this for Anna."

"Anna's scared and confused," he continued on. "She doesn't know what she's saying. For all we know, Kharon's just trying manipulate you the way he does everyone else. He knows that you're worried about her. What better way to play on that than to arrange for her to make these calls?"

Thomas said nothing in response, unperturbed if not for the twitch of his bottom lip. "You would do the same," he then repeated, simply. "Tell Hermione that I'm sorry for this."

Within seconds of hearing those words, Draco dropped his arms and quickly turned, grabbing the wand out of his pocket and just barely shooting a spell at the branch that was hanging directly above the bouncer when suddenly, instead of pressing down on the trigger, he swung his firearm at Draco's head and immediately knocked him unconscious.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four:**

"What are we going to do with him?" Corvus asked, hovering by the door as Hermione checked on Eric. "According to Psyche, he tried to slip something in her drink the night they met."

To that Hermione lifted an eyebrow, nearly dropping the vial of Sleeping Draught in her clutches. On the one hand she was naturally suspicious of anything that Psyche said, but on the other hand she had lived long enough to know that there was no shortage of horrible people in the world. To think she had spent days tending to one such person had left a bad feeling in her gut.

"Once he's Healed, we'll modify his memory and then send him off," she decided, firmly.

Corvus tensed at the sound of that. "Isn't the memory modifying charm dangerous?"

"It can be if it's performed incorrectly."

"I take you have experience with it?"

Hermione nodded, making her way to the kitchen where she then set the kettle on the stove. "My parents are non-magical," she explained to Corvus as he listened in silence. "During the war, I … well, I modified their memories in order to protect them. Made them forget me. Sent them away. To a safe place."

"That must have been difficult for you," Corvus offered, sincerely. "Not just magically."

Tensing a little, Hermione focused her attention on the kettle. "I would do it again if I had to."

"Sounds like you'd do anything for the people you love."

"Wouldn't you?" she asked, preparing tea for both of them once the water had finished heating.

Stopping in thought, Corvus uttered the first words that came to mind. "The only person I have is Psyche."

Only then did Hermione glance to him, an undeniable sort of warmth in her eyes. "Sorry to break the news to you like this, but you've got one more person as of this moment right now."

He chuckled in response, nodding thanks to her as she handed him the larger of the two cups. "I know this is going to sound weird, but you kind of remind me of my —"

Within seconds the front door swung open, the candles in the lounge flickering against the frigid winds before swiftly blowing out, leaving only thin streams of smoke as Hermione and Corvus glanced over to find Thomas standing there on his own. Given the shortness of his breath and the disheveled state of his clothes and hair, he appeared to have just returned from a morning run of some sort, only Hermione knew that to have not been the case.

For a moment she thought to ask why he had returned on his own, but there was something about the look in his eyes, an inexplicable darkness in them as he glanced to Corvus, that told the witch all she needed to know.

On instinct she stepped in front of a confused Corvus and then discreetly felt for her wand, unsurprised to find that it was burning hot.

That could only have meant one thing.

Malfoy was in trouble.

"And so are we," Hermione mouthed, swallowing firmly as Thomas carefully pointed his firearm at them, his hands shaking around it as if he'd no idea what he was doing, only that he had to do it. "Talk to me, Thomas. Tell me what's going on."

"Th-this doesn't concern you," Thomas forced out, his Adam's plunging the length of his neck as he sucked in a deep breath. "Step aside and no one will get hurt."

Corvus was frozen in shock, hovering motionlessly behind Hermione as she wrapped her fingers around her wand, ready to fire off a spell at any second. "Is it Kharon?" she asked. "Is he making you do this?"

"Y-you don't know what you're talking about."

"Then why don't you tell me?"

Gulping hard, Thomas flicked the safety off, the quiet  _click_  of it bouncing within the walls of the safe house as the three of them stood there in silence. "If I squeeze down on the trigger, the anti-magic that I loaded in here will go through both of you," he uttered. "Just step aside, Hermione. You don't have to protect him. None of us do. He's not who he says he is."

Hermione fell silent at the last part, instinctively grabbing Corvus by the wrist as he tried to step around her and face Thomas on his own. "Don't," she told him, firmly.

Although she couldn't block the anti-magic, she could certainly Apparate both her and Corvus to safety if she had to.

"Tell me something," Thomas then began, speaking directly to Corvus now. "Why is it that you look nothing like Psyche?"

Narrowing her eyes at that, Hermione opened her mouth to say something, only to fall deep into the truth of those words. She had never really given thought to it before, but now that the lack of family resemblance had been brought to her attention, she had to admit, Thomas was right.

"If you want to shoot me, then just fucking shoot me," Corvus interjected, breaking the silence as the winds outside grew louder and faster.

Tightening her grip on the young wizard's wrist, Hermione locked eyes with Thomas, knowing deep down that there was only one way out of this. "There's a tunnel," she explained. "An escape tunnel connected to the warehouse."

Corvus snapped a look at her as if to ask what in Merlin's name she was thinking, telling Thomas about their plan when he was clearly working for the other side in some capacity, but she simply ignored him and went on.

"We're going to use that tunnel to sneak into the warehouse and to do exactly as I had promised you the night we met." Releasing her breath as the bouncer unknowingly lowered his weapon an inch, Hermione kept going. "We're on the same side, Thomas. You know that. Kharon tossed the love of his life to the side when she became of no use to him. What makes you think he won't do the same to you and to Anna and to Yash if you go back to him?"

Shaking uncontrollably, Thomas straightened his arms, the tip of his finger grazing the trigger as he tried to fight off the voices in his head. "If I don't give him Corvus in exchange for Anna, I'm going to lose her anyway. Yash, too."

"You won't. We have a plan," Hermione repeated, calmly if not for the quiver of her bottom lip. "Psyche is going to take us to the tunnel first thing in the morning and we'll find Anna and Yash. I promise you, Thomas. I'll do everything in my power to make sure you get them back."

To that he laughed, humourlessly. "You don't get it, do you?"

"I'm trying, Thomas. I'm trying my best."

"Well, your best isn't good enough," he countered. "Not against a guy like Kharon. Just ask your friend, Corvus. He knows better than anyone that we're fucked either way."

Turning rigid at the sound of that, Corvus yanked his wrist from Hermione's grasp and abruptly cut in front of her before she could stop him. Only then, in the space of that one second, did she feel it. The same mix of fear and anxiety that had urged her to send her parents away knowing in the back of her mind that she might never see them again. Those feelings swarmed her insides so fast, she could hardly gather her breath, let alone make sense of her next move.

Without a moment of thought she jumped in front of Corvus, squeezing her eyes shut as Thomas pulled the trigger. By then it was too late to Apparate. Her only hope was that he had missed, and for a split second she thought he had, the piercing echo of the shot racing past her and shattering one of the windows in the back, but then she heard another sound.

A loud thud.

Opening her eyes to find that Corvus was okay, Hermione then glanced back, frozen in shock as she saw it. Thomas was on the floor, the weapon having slid from his grasp as Malfoy raced in from behind and taken him down, throwing fist after fist at the bouncer's face. It was only after Corvus peeled away from Hermione and raced towards Malfoy, trying to pull him off of Thomas before he beat him within an inch of his life, that Hermione snapped out of it.

There was blood.

So much blood.

"S-stop!" Hermione shouted, darting forward and grabbing Malfoy by the shoulders, using every ounce of strength she had in her to pull him away. "He's not moving! Stop! You're going to kill him!"

The very second those last words escaped her lips, it all came to an abrupt, crashing halt. Malfoy froze, the realization of what he'd done kicking him swiftly in the gut as he glanced down at the bouncer's face. Without a word, without so much as a glance in Hermione's direction, he got up, his fists covered in blood and the grey of his eyes shrouded in darkness.

Chest rising and falling as she tried to gather her breath, Hermione wanted so badly to chase after him, but Corvus stopped her, clasping her shoulder as she tried to get up.

"H-he's not moving," Corvus repeated, his eyes fixed on Thomas. "We need to do something."

Hermione stilled, wiping the blood that had spattered across her face before then releasing a deep breath and pulling the anti-magic ring from the bouncer's finger.

* * *

Staring up at the bedroom ceiling, Harry swallowed the lump in the back of his throat before then climbing out of bed in the middle of the night.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Ginny asked, tiredly blinking her eyes open.

Halting mid-step, he tried to think of something believable. "Checking on the baby …"

"The baby's fast asleep," his wife remarked. "You were going to hide away in your office again, weren't you?"

Harry hesitated. "I wouldn't calling it  _hiding_."

"What would you call it?" Ginny inquired, her lips twitching into a smirk as Harry came back to bed. "Need I remind you that it was your idea to take time off with me after the baby was born?"

"It-it's not that, Gin."

"Then what is it? Because you've been hiding away in your office all week," she uttered. "If you would prefer to go back to work earlier than planned, you have my full support. I mean that. My parents are here nearly everyday as it is."

Without another word, Harry turned to her, taking her hands in his and looking her in the eyes as he said it. "There's no place in the world that I would rather be than right here with my family," he reassured her, speaking directly from the heart. "Believe me, I've spent too long without one."

She fell silent at that sound of that, opting only to give his hands a small squeeze.

"The truth is … I'm worried about my friends," he explained. "I'm not supposed to say anything, but … Kingsley hasn't heard from Hermione in over three weeks. Malfoy, too."

"At least we know where they are," she couldn't help but say, tilting her head down. "Ron just … well, he just left out of nowhere, didn't he? No explanation. Nothing. He just left George a small note saying that he was going away for a few months. It's one thing to do a bit of traveling when you're feeling down, but Merlin's sake, we've not heard from him for  _months_."

Harry tensed. "I, er … I have a feeling I know what he's doing."

"Y-you do?"

"Again, I'm probably not supposed to say anything, but …" He exhaled, deeply. "The day before he took off, I ran into him at the Ministry. Not just in the lobby, but outside of Kingsley's office."

Ginny's eyebrows twitched up. "What was he doing there? I thought he walked away from Auror Office because it wasn't right for him anymore."

"I thought so as well, but there's a good chance that Kingsley convinced him otherwise."

"How would he have done that? Ron has always loved working at the joke shop. He would never give it up. Not for anything."

"That's the thing, isn't it? Maybe it wasn't  _something_  as much as it was  _someone_."

"Hermione," Ginny mouthed, her eyes widening in shock. "You don't think he's wherever she is, do you?"

"It's possible," Harry offered. "Once again I'm not supposed to say anything, but she and Malfoy are currently working undercover. As Muggles. In order to maintain their cover, they're the ones that are required to initiate contact with us."

"And they've not done so in over three weeks."

He nodded. "Everyone keeps telling me that this is normal for undercover missions. That certain Aurors go months without initiating contact. But Hermione isn't just any Auror. She would never go so long without letting us know that she and her partner are okay."

Visibly worried now, Ginny squeezed her husband's hands again, firmly this time. "You've got to do something.  _We've_  got to do something."

"I know."

"I-I'll leave the baby with my parents. We'll go together."

For a moment Harry was silent, simply looking at his wife as though he still couldn't believe that a witch as beautiful and as accomplished as her had agreed to marry and start a family with him. "The baby needs at least one of us here at home."

Ginny tilted her head down as if she had expected as much from him. Although she had opted to become a Quidditch player instead of an Auror, she was just as talented as half of the Aurors that the Ministry had to offer, and they all knew it. But Harry was right. It was too dangerous and the baby needed at least one of them to remain at home where it was safe.

* * *

Without any idea as to the time or how long he'd been standing out there, leaning against his car, the warm glow of the safe house standing out in the dark, frigid cold of the forest, Draco glanced up as it began to snow. Somehow he'd forgotten all about snow. The way it fell softly from the skies one second, blanketing the trees and rooftops and roads in white, and the way it came down hard and fast the next, consuming every inch of warmth and colour and life that it touched.

The moment he closed his eyes, waiting for snow to consume him the way it did everything else, he felt someone approach, the softness of their steps giving them away.

"You're bleeding," Granger observed, quietly.

Opening his eyes, Draco glanced down at his hands to find that they were still covered in blood. "This … isn't mine."

"Not your hands," his partner countered, nodding upward. "Your head."

Only then did he remember, feeling along the back of his head to find that she was right. Having come to in the middle of the forest earlier, his only concern at the time had been to stop Thomas. And he'd done just that. But he was now left with the memory of it, his fists bruised and swollen, and his chest pounding loudly all over again as he sunk deep into the thought of what could have happened had he arrived just a moment too late.

Without saying anything the brunette faced him, murmuring a few quick spells to clean the blood from his hands and to close the cut along the back of his head, avoiding eye contact as she went. That alone was enough for him to know that he had shocked her back there, possibly scared her. In many ways he had scared himself. Not since the war had he lost control like that. And yet, as he glanced down at the witch in front of him, there was no mistaking the fact that he'd have done it again, and again after that, and as many times as he had to if it meant she was safe.

"He, er … he should be up and about come morning," she then explained, as if to fill the silence with something other than the echo of the wind. "It's a good thing we've got magic on our side."

"You should have let him bleed."

Blinking up at her partner in shock, she narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "Y-you don't mean that."

"Of course I do."

"Malfoy."

"He shot at you, Granger."

"If he'd truly wanted to hurt me, he would have."

"That's not a chance I'm willing to take," he stated, firmly. "Don't look so surprised. You wanted me to be Slytherin again, didn't you? Well, here I am."

She quickly peeled her lips apart, whatever words she had meant to say plummeting the length of her throat. "I should never have asked that of you. It was unfair of me," she said to him, earning a humourless laugh before she continued. "But you're right. We're in no position to be taking chances."

There was a beat of silence after she'd said that, during which time Draco looked to her, waiting for the part where she was going to take it all back.

To his surprise, that part never came.

Instead she inched closer, ghosting a hand along the side of his face before she then pulled him in and uttered the only words that she could manage in that moment, the warmth of them dancing across his lips as he tilted his head down, towards hers.

"Take that fire," she murmured to him. "And burn everything that stands in your way."

Not a moment after the last word had left her lips, the snow coming down faster now, did he lean down and kiss her. Slowly at first and then harder and faster, unlocking the car and then climbing inside with her as she kissed back, every breath and every touch and every motion that followed, echoing the depth of their feelings for each other.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five:**

Unclothed and glistening as if she had just stepped out of a steam room, Hermione blinked up at Malfoy in the dimness of the backseat, the ends of his hair grazing her forehead as he slowly and wordlessly tilted his head down to hers.

Only then, as he ghosted her lips with one last kiss, her heart still racing as she came down from the heights from her pleasure, did she utter the words.

"Could you move? There's a seatbelt digging into my lower back …"

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow at the brunette, staring down at her for only a moment before he broke into laughter, helping her up in the seconds after.

By then it was the middle of the night, every inch of the forest blanketed in snow.

Checking the hour on her phone as she sat up, Hermione exhaled, deeply. "It's nearly time."

"Already?"

She nodded, setting her phone down and giving herself a second to relax before then pulling the clothes from Malfoy's grasp as he gathered them from the floor and climbing onto his lap. Not a moment later they were kissing again, his hands running warmly through the curls in her hair and her hands grasping his strong, broad shoulders as she pressed down on him.

"Kharon can wait," she then murmured. "Don't you think?"

Without a word he took her bottom lip between his teeth and gently tugged on it, eliciting a soft, breathless moan from the back of her throat as she quickly sucked in. Suddenly she was ready for him again, every inch of her body responding to him in ways she had never felt with anyone else before.

Wasting no time, he lifted her up and draped her across the backseat, slowly kissing down her body as she wove her fingers through the roots of his hair and squeezed.

* * *

Psyche lifted her head to the door, the tiredness in her eyes quickly tapering away at the sight of Corvus. "You're back," she uttered, her eyebrows twitching up in surprise as he then knelt down in front of her and untied her bindings. "Uh … I'm going to assume your new Auror friends gave you permission to untie me."

"Get up," he interjected, brushing the dirt from his knees as he stood to his feet. "We're leaving."

Climbing up, she abruptly looked to him, in shock. "What?"

"We're leaving."

"I heard that part," she stated, finally catching his attention. "What's going on, Cor?"

He tensed, his Adam's apple plunging the length of his throat. "There's no time to explain. We've got to go before they wake up."

"Corvus."

"What?" he snapped.

Without another word Psyche approached the young wizard, her wrists bruised from the bindings and her clothes wrinkled, covered in dirt. "What's going on?" she asked again, gently this time. "One day you're here, demanding that I help those guys, and the next day you're trying to sneak us out before they wake up?"

Swallowing hard, Corvus turned away. "Like I said, there's no time to explain."

"Give me the short version."

He exhaled, heavily. "Will you just do as I say for once?"

"Not until you tell me what happened."

"Isn't it obvious?"

Sparing no more than a moment of thought, her heart quickly plummeted. "You know."

There was a beat of silence after she said, during which time he glanced down, to the ground. "If we leave within the next hour, we can catch a flight out of here … to the second cave," he uttered, avoiding eye contact. "I had a look at the translations that Hermione was working on. Turns out the second cave is in the Ural Mountains. Not the Caucasus Mountains like we thought before."

"Cor, if we can just talk about this for a second …"

"What's there to talk about?" he inserted, sharply. "I know the truth now, and apparently you do, too. It's only a matter of time before they figure it out."

"What about Anna and Yash? The warehouse? You're just going to leave them hanging?"

"Like you said, there's as good as dead."

Psyche fell silent, looking to him in disbelief. "You're better than this, Cor."

"Am I?" he asked, releasing a humourless laugh. "Last I checked, I was the one who opened the first cave and gave Kharon access to the anti-magic inside."

"Only because I asked you to."

"I could have refused."

"And you would have if I'd told you what Kharon and I were going to do."

"Honestly, Psyche, we don't have time for this. If you want to stay here and help those guys, you go right ahead. I'm catching that flight with or without you."

She pressed her lips into a frown. "You've lost your mind if you think you're going anywhere near that cave without me."

"Then grab your shit and follow me."

"I will," she said to him, sincerely. "But first, I'm going to draw a map to the tunnel and leave it here for them."

"Why? I thought you didn't care."

"I don't have to care about them as people to know they're important. In more ways than one."

He gulped. "Okay, just … be quick about it."

"One more thing," she inserted, waiting until he glanced back at her. "Is Ron here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because he's important, too."

**_One Hour Later_ **

He heard voices again. One man and one woman. By the inflection of their words, he sensed they were discussing something important, unbeknownst to the fact that he'd been slipping in and out of consciousness for the past hour.

Whatever potion they had given him, it was beginning to fade.

Ron was awake.

Only as they left the room, the quiet  _click_  of the door alerting him to the fact that they were gone, did he slowly and tiredly blink his eyes open. At first he had no idea where he was or how he had ended up there, but as he struggled to sit up, scrunching his face in pain and glancing down at the bandages wrapped around his chest, it all came back to him.

The memory of having been shot, the manner in which he had fallen to the cold, hard ground just moments after he had Apparated both him and Corvus to safety and the warmth of his own blood pooling out of his chest.

With a deep, shaky breath, he got up from the bed, slowly making his way to the door to find that it had been left unlocked. Cracking it open just an inch, just enough to see what was on the other side, he spotted one very familiar face. She was alone, pacing in front of the fireplace, some sort of note in her clutches.

At first he did nothing but watch in complete and utter silence, taking note of the worried look in her eyes. It was like the old days all over again. Those long, sleepless nights that she had spent in the Common Room, throwing herself into her schoolwork as her two best friends distracted her with a mix of Quidditch talk or whatever else consumed their minds at that age.

Not a moment later she was joined by a tall, pale-haired wizard. For a second Ron thought it was Corvus that he was looking at, but as his eyes adjusted to the brightness in the lounge, he realized it was Malfoy.

"I've checked everywhere. There are no tracks in the snow. The cars are both here. Th-they must have Apparated," Malfoy explained, breathless as if he'd just returned from a run.

Hermione tensed. "Something tells me that he left with her … by choice."

"Why would he do that?"

"You were there last night," she furthered. "Thomas was seconds away from handing him over to Kharon."

"I've a hard time believing he's scared of his sister's ex-boyfriend."

"Maybe not him, but certainly the power that he has."

"Good point," Malfoy offered, releasing a deep breath as he checked the time on his phone after. "We've got to go. It's nearly five o'clock."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose we'll have to make do with the map."

"And if Psyche's leading us directly to Kharon?"

"Then we're fucked," she stated, plainly. "Gather everything we need and load it into the car. I'll wake Thomas."

"What about Eric and Weasley?"

"They should be okay here on their own. I'll leave a note for Ron in case anything happens to us whilst we're gone. He'll know what to do with Eric."

With a nod, Malfoy proceeded towards the front door to get the car ready, just barely grazing the handle when suddenly, he glanced back at his partner. "Granger?" he asked, earning a quick look from her as she shrugged her coat on in the kitchen. "Show them what you're made of."

Slowing her movements at the sound of that, Hermione then made her way over to him, standing on her toes and clinging to his shoulders as she kissed him as if for the last time.

_If only they knew._

Only then did Ron lean away from the door, rocking back for just a moment before turning fully. Slowly he approached the bedside table where they had left his belongings, just a small bag full of clothes and whatever magical devices he'd thought to bring with him. Reaching in for a shirt, he tugged it on and fastened his traveling cloak on top, wincing a little from the pain in his chest before then taking his bag in his hands and slinging it over his shoulder. It was only as he lifted it from the bedside table, that he noticed someone had tucked a note underneath.

For a split second he thought it was the note that Hermione had mentioned leaving him, but as he unfolded it, he found someone else's name on the bottom.

His throat tightened in response.

_Urals._

_Sorry for everything._

_Psyche._

Just as he'd thought.

"Going somewhere?" Hermione asked, hovering by the door.

Ron turned, his bag sliding down his arm, inches away from falling to the floor before he quickly caught it. Tucking the note into his back pocket, he opted for silence, knowing deep down that if he tried to explain, he was only going to say something that she was better off not knowing.

Swallowing firmly, Hermione tightened her fingers around the doorknob, her eyes slowly filling. "You were just going to leave without saying anything?" she asked. "Again?"

His body turned rigid, not a word entering his mind apart from, "You've got everything you need waiting for you in that car."

"I saved your life, Ronald."

"Maybe you shouldn't have."

"Well, I did. So, if you don't mind, I'd like for you to be honest with me," she snapped. "Just this once."

"I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"Because it's not my place," Ron uttered without meaning to, looking her in the eyes now. "I-I'm not him anymore, Hermione. The playful, red-haired bloke that you … that fought alongside you and Harry during the war. The bloke that just barely made it out alive. That bloke that … the one that loved to fly and to spend time with his friends and to study with you even though he had no idea what you were on about half the time."

Hermione fell silent at the last bit, the look in her eyes telling him that she missed those days just as much as he did.

Without another word Ron came over to her, stopping within a couple of inches before wrapping his arms around her, loosely but firmly all the same. "I know it's confusing now," he said to her, speaking quietly even though they were alone. "But it's all going to make sense soon. And when that time comes, I'll find you."

"How will you know where to look?" she found herself asking, hurriedly wiping her eyes as they separated in the moments after.

"I'll always know where to look, Hermione. That's one thing that will never change."

Somehow she smiled after that, and he smiled back, the weight of their separate missions resting heavily on their shoulders as they looked to each other in the quiet after. It was different this time than it was at Neville's wedding, in the last few seconds of their dance.

Her questions had been left unanswered and there was still a trace of sadness in her eyes and in his, just at the thought of having to part ways again, but one thing was clear.

They were different people now.

Both of them.

And that was okay.

* * *

Draco lifted his gaze to the front porch as Hermione came down the steps, a small dog scurrying behind her before vanishing into the trees. What was even more bewildering was the miniature bag dangling from his mouth.

Face screwing at the sight of that, Draco uttered the first and only words that came to mind as his partner climbed inside the front passenger seat.

"Was that Weasley?"

Without a word she buckled her seatbelt and nodded hello to Thomas, who had insisted on taking his own car. Draco supposed it was for the best. The idea of having to sit in the same car as him, the same bloke who had knocked him out and then shot at Granger just the other night was a bit too much to ask. Even from an Auror who was used to working in uncomfortable conditions.

To Draco's annoyance, Thomas had escaped the beating mostly unscathed. One of his eyes was a little swollen, but other than that, he appeared to have recovered completely. Without magic he'd have looked as though he had jumped out of a moving car, off the side of a cliff and in front of an oncoming train, but that was beside the point.

"Ready?" Granger asked, giving his hand a small squeeze as she looked to him, in a surprisingly good mood despite what they were about to do.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, curiously. "Are you going to tell me why Sparky fucked off into the trees just a moment ago?"

"His name is Ron," she uttered, simply. "And he's got a job to do. Just like us."

"I thought his job was to find Psyche."

"I suspect there's more to it than that."

"Well, I s'pose we're down to three then."

"Four if you count Eric."

"Oh, right. I forgot about the git," Draco admitted, pulling away from the safe house and driving a safe distance behind Thomas as they made their way down to the main road, the crunch of freshly fallen snow under the tires. "So, how was it?"

Granger unlocked her phone, scrolling through various traffic reports. "How was what?"

"Speaking to the love of your life again," Draco joked, chuckling as she rolled her eyes. "Got an edge to him now, hasn't he?"

To that Granger fell silent, presumably thinking back to the encounter before glancing over to her partner, a knowing glimmer in her warm, brown eyes. "If this is your way of asking me whether something happened, the answer is no, Auror Malfoy."

"Oh, it's Auror Malfoy now, is it?"

"Would you prefer I call you Ferret Boy?"

He smirked, bouncing a quick look at her as he pulled onto the main road alongside Thomas. "I'd prefer you call me Draco."

There was a moment of silence after, wherein the brunette opened and closed her mouth multiple times, as if trying to decide how to respond before going with a simple, "Draco it is."

"You're blushing, Auror Granger."

"That's Hermione to you," she corrected, earning a small smile from him, which she returned as quickly as he'd given it, the road ahead long and winding, but the warmth between their hands burning strong.


End file.
